THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


PA6807 
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DEC  1  7  75 


This  book  is  due  at  the  LOUIS  R.  WILSON  LIBRARY  on  the 
last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold  it  may  be 
renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  library. 

DATE  ni?T 
DUE 

DATE 
DUE 

A 

lOEC  1  7 

1994 

3D  0  1 

— * 

APR  1 9  200 

) 

form  No.  5  13 

Digitized  by 

the  Internet  Archive 

in  2014 

https://archive.org/details/aeneidofvirgilOOvirg_0 


THE  ^NEID  OF  VIRGIL 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


10000881681 


Virgil. 


Portrait. 


THE  ^NEID 
OF  VIRGIL 


TRANSLATED    INTO  ENGLISH 

By  JOHN   D.  LONG 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 
L.  C.  PAGE  ^  COMPANY  (Incorporated) 
MDCCCC 


COPYRIGHT, 

1879- 

BY  LOCKWOOD,  UROOKS  &  CO. 


TO 

MY  WIFE  AND  TWO  LITTLE  GIRLS 
SO  OFTEN  THE  COMPANIONS  OF  MY  WORK 
I  DEDICATE  IT 


OF  THE  TRANSLATION 


This,  the  avocation  of  the  last  year,  is  not  printed  because 
there  is  want  of  it,  or  merit  in  it.  It  is  only  my  endeavor  — 
good  or  bad  —  toward  making  a  loyal  translation  of  the  ^neid 
into  living  English  blank  verse :  it  is  my  mite  of  tribute  to  the 
old  studies,  paid  after  drifting  far  from  the  academic  inspira- 
tion and  shelter ;  and  as  it  is  a  busy  man's  work  and  not  a 
scholar's,  perhaps,  for  that,  something  will  be  pardoned  to  its 
infelicities. 

It  is  accidental  if  coincidences  with  other  translations  occur. 
I  refrained  from  reading  them  before  finishing  my  own,  be- 
cause, with  a  form  of  words  in  the  mind,  or  in  the  eye  even,  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  express  anew  the  idea  they  convey  and 
not  follow  the  pattern.  On  examining  some  of  them,  I  am 
convinced  that  a  rhyming  version  must  always  be  paraphrase 
rather  than  translation,  besides  offending  against  classic  dig- 
nity—  like  a  modern  bonnet  on  the  head  of  Minerva.  The 
most  faithful  translation  is  of  course  the  best ;  and  in  mine  I 
have  tried  —  not  hesitating  now  and  then  at  an  anachronistic 
rendering,  an  obsolete  word,  or,  where  I  thought  the  context 
warranted  it,  the  language  of  common  talk  —  to  bring  out  for 
the  most  part  in  to-day's  phrase,  so  far  as  I  could,  the  force  of 
all  the  Latin  words. 

Perhaps  some  will  read  this.  If  so,  they  will  renew,  as  I 
after  twenty-five  years  have  done,  not  only  the  kindly  acquaint- 
ance of  this  Roman  story-teller,  but  the  happy  morning  of  the 
school-boy's  shining  face  and  eager  heart. 

J.  D.  L. 

HiNGHAM,  April  19,  1879. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Virgil   Portrait    .    .  Frontispiece 

Triton   From  the  Vatican  .    .  14 

Helen  of  Troy   Sir  Frederick  Leighton  62 

Ancient  Italy   J.  M.  W.  Turner  .    .  92 

Eneas  at  the  Court  of  Dido  P.  Guerin     ....  106 

The  Boxer   Canova- Vatican    .    .  148 

Cum^an  Sibyl   Domenichino     .    .    .  169 

Circe  and  the  Companions 

of  Ulysses   Briton  Rivih-e  ...  208 

The  Tiber   From  the  Louvre    .    .  244 

Iris  From  the  Gallery  of  St.  Luke,  Rome  273 

Jove   From  the  Vatican  .    .  309 

Aurora   Gtiido  Reni  ....  349 

Juno  .    .    .    .  •   From  the  Vatican  .    .  395 


THE  ^NEID. 


FIRST  BOOK. 

T  SING  of  war.    I  sing  the  man  who  erst, 

From  off  the  shore  of  Troy  fate-hunted,  came 
To  the  Lavinian  coast  in  Italy, 
Hard  pressed  on  land  and  sea,  the  gods  malign, 
Fierce  Juno's  hate  unslaked.    Much  too  in  war 
He  bore  while  he  a  city  built,  and  set 
His  gods  in  Latium.    Thence  the  Latin  race, 
Our  Alban  sires,  the  walls  of  haughty  Rome ! 

Tell  me,  O  Muse,  why  'twas,  whose  will  defied, 
At  what  enraged,  the  queen  of  gods  drove  forth 
A  man  for  reverence  famed,  so  many  blows 
To  bear,  so  many  toils  to  undergo ! 
Is  there  such  bitterness  of  hate  in  heaven  ? 

Long  time  ago  the  city  Carthage  stood, 
Inhabited  by  colonists  from  Tyre, 
Well  off  the  Tiber's  mouth  and  Italy, 
Rich  in  resources,  and  to  battle  swift. 


lO 


THE  iENEID. 


They  say  that  Juno  loved  it  more  alone 

Than  all  earth  else,  more  e'en  than  Samos.  Here 

Her  arms,  her  chariot  were  :  the  goddess  long 

Had  nursed  and  cherished  it  in  hope,  if  fate 

Were  kind,  to  give  it  o'er  all  nations  rule. 

For  she  had  heard  of  seed  from  Trojan  blood, 

That  yet  would  topple  down  the  Tyrian  towers ; 

That  thence  a  race  victorious  in  its  arms,  25 

Its  empire  wide,  would  come  —  so  ran  the  Fates  — 

To  blot  out  Libya.    Fearful  e'er  of  this, 

Remembering  too  the  war  which  she  of  old 

Was  first  to  wage  'gainst  Troy  for  her  dear  Greece, 

The  causes  of  her  hate  and  her  keen  wrongs  30 

Still  vexed  her  soul.    Deep  in  her  heart  had  sunk 

The  award  that  Paris  made,  the  slight  that  passed 

Her  beauty  by,  her  hatred  of  his  race, 

And  the  honors  of  the  kidnapped  Ganymede. 

By  these  inflamed,  from  Latium  far  she  drove,  3S 

O'er  the  whole  ocean  tossed,  what  men  of  Troy 

The  Greeks  and  dire  Achilles  spared.  Fate-driven, 

They  wandered  many  years  all  seas  around. 

So  much  it  cost  to  found  the  Roman  State  ! 

Their  sails  were  gayly  spread,  their  brazen  beaks  ^° 
Ploughing  the  salt  sea-foam  scarce  out  of  sight 
Of  Sicily,  when  Juno,  still  at  heart 
Nursing  her  hurt,  thus  pondered  with  herself ; 
"  Foiled,  shall  I  stay  my  purpose,  powerless 
To  keep  from  Italy  this  Trojan  king?  4S 
Ay  !  fate  forbids  1    Yet  could  not  Pallas  wreck 
And  sink  at  sea  the  Grecian  fleet  for  naught 
But  Ajax'  frenzied  guilt,  Oileus'  son  ? 


BOOK  1. 


Tl 


She,  hurling  from  the  clouds  Jove's  lightning  bolt, 

In  pieces  dashed  his  boats,  with  winds  upturned  5° 

The  waves,  and  in  the  whirl  caught  Ajax  up, 

And  on  a  jut  of  rock  impaled  his  corse. 

But  I  walk  queen  of  gods,  sister  and  wife 

Of  Jove,  yet  with  one  tribe  so  many  years 

Wage  war  !    Who  now  is  awed  at  Juno's  might !  ss 

What  beggar  at  her  shrine  will  offering  lay !  " 

Thus  chafing  in  her  own  embittered  heart. 
The  goddess  to  ^olia  comes  apace  — 
The  home  of  storms,  and  womb  of  raging  winds. 
Here  rules  king  ^olus  in  cavern  huge,  ^ 
And  thralls  in  chains  and  cell  the  angry  blasts 
And  bellowing  tempests.    They  in  fury  rush 
With  mighty  roar  about  their  mountain  keep. 
Sceptre  in  hand,  at  peak  sits  ^olus. 
And  curbs  their  will  and  calms  their  ire.  For  else 
The  sea,  the  land,  high  heaven  itself  they  quick 
Would  lift  away  with  them  and  sweep  through  space. 
But  the  Almighty  Father,  fearing  this. 
Hath  shut  them  in  dark  caves,  and  on  them  laid 
The  mountains'  towering  mass,  and  o'er  them  set  7° 
A  king  discreet  to  hold  them  in  strict  hest 
Or  give  loose  reins  when  bidden.    Unto  him 
Thus  Juno  speaks,  a  suppliant :  "tEoIus, — 
For  unto  thee  the  Father  of  the  gods 
And  king  of  men  hath  given  to  calm  the  waves  7S 
Or  toss  them  with  the  wind  —  a  race  I  hate 
Sails  on  the  Tuscan  sea,  transporting  Troy 
And  its  cowed  household  gods  to  Italy. 
Give  thy  winds  might,  and  wreck  their  sinking  boats, 


12 


THE  iENEID. 


Or  sparse  and  whelm  their  corses  in  the  deep. 

Twice  seven  nymphs  I  have  of  fairest  shape ; 

Dei'opeia,  loveliest  shape  of  all, 

I'll  give  in  wedlock  true  and  vow  her  thine, 

With  thee  forever  for  thy  great  desert 

To  live,  and  make  thee  sire  of  children  fair." 

Back  ^olus :  "  'Tis  thine,  O  queen,  to  ask 
Whate'er  thou  wilt ;  my  part  to  do  what  bid. 
To  thee  my  power,  my  sceptre,  Jove's  regard, 
I  owe  j  thou  bid'st  me  banquet  with  the  gods  ; 
Thou  mak'st  me  lord  of  tempest  and  of  storm."  90 

So  spake,  and  turned  his  spear,  and  smote  with  it 
The  hollow  mountain  side.    In  column  massed. 
Forth  charge  the  winds  where'er  a  port,  and  sweep 
The  earth  with  blasts.    The  wind  from  East,  the  wind 
From  South,  from  South-west  thick  with  rain,  leap 
down  95 
Together  on  the  sea,  and  from  its  dregs 
Upturn  it  all,  and  roll  vast  waves  to  shore. 
Then  come  the  sailors'  shouts,  the  crack  of  roaps. 
Clouds  quick  snatch  sky  and  day  from  Trojan  eyes  : 
Black  night  broods   o'er  the  deep :   thunders  all 
heaven ; 

With  the  incessant  lightning  gleams  the  air. 
All  nature  threats  the  men  with  instant  death. 

Palsied  are  then  Eneas'  limbs  with  cold. 
He  groans  and,  both  hands  lifted  toward  the  stars. 
Thus  cries  aloud :  "  Thrice,  four  times  blessed  ye, 
Who  haply  under  Troy's  high  walls  met  death ! 
O  Diomed,  bravest  of  Grecian  blood, 
Why  could  not  I  fall  dead  on  Ilian  soil, 


BOOK  I. 


13 


And  pour  by  thy  right  hand  this  heart's  blood  out, 
Where  Hector  brave,  slain  by  Achilles'  spear,  "° 
And  huge  Sarpedon  lie,  and  Simois  drags, 
Engorged  beneath  its  waves,  so  many  shields. 
Helmets  and  corses  of  heroic  men!  " 

Shrill  from  the  north  the  blast  beat  down  the 
sail 

Full  in  his  face,  as  thus  he  cried,  and  tossed  "S 
The  spray  to  heaven.    The  oars  are  snapt.  Round 

goes 

The  bow,  broadside  to  sea.    In  deluge  pours 
The  tumbling  mountain  wave  :  upon  its  crest 
Some  hang ;  to  some  the  yawning  waves  disclose 
The  earth  between  :  the  tide  roils  up  the  sand.  «° 
Three  wrecks  the  South  wind  drives  on  sunken  rocks, 
Which,  as  their  huge  backs  swell  from  out  the  sea, 
The  Italians  call  the  Altars.    Three  on  shoals 
And  spits  the  East  wind  forces, —  sorry  sight — 
Sets  them  aground,  and  banks  them  in  the  sands.  "S 
One,  with  the  Lycians  and  Orontes  true, 
A  huge  sea  strikes,  before  Eneas'  eyes, 
Straight  down  astern ;  its  leaning  helmsman  falls 
And  headlong  rolls :  it  round  and  round  and  round 
One  circling  eddy  spins,  then  gorges  it 
In  the  swift  vortex  of  the  sea.  Dispersed 
Mid  that  vast  whirl  of  waters  float  the  crew, 
And  'neath  the  waves  the  warriors'  arms,  the  wares 
And  wealth  of  Troy.    And  now  the  storm  o'ercomes 
The  stout  boat  of  Ilioneus,  of  brave  *3S 
Achates,  that  which  Abas  bore,  and  that 
*Vhich  old  Alethes.    All,  their  joints  apart, 


14 


THE  iENEID. 


Let  in  the  ruthless  flood  and  gape  in  cracks. 

Meanwhile  doth  Neptune  scent  a  storm  abroad, 
Loud  uproar  on  the  sea,  the  very  deep  h° 
Upturned.    Moved  greatly,  up  he  looks,  and  lifts 
His  head  benignant  o'er  the  topmost  wave. 
He  sees  Eneas'  wrecks  on  all  the  main. 
The  Trojans  pressed  by  flood,  and  ruin  rained 
From  heaven.    Nor  Juno's  wiles  nor  hate  escape 
Her  brother.    He  the  East  wind  and  the  West 
Calls  unto  him,  and  thus  anon  he  speaks : 
"  Hath  faith  in  any  lineage  of  yours 
So  seized  you  that  ye  dare,  by  me  unbid. 
Dash  heaven  and  earth  in  one,  and  raise  so  wild  ^5° 

A  storm,  ye  Winds  ?    Whom  I  !    But  let  me 

calm 

The  raging  waves.    Ye  shall  not  thus  again 
Offend  and  pay  like  penalty.    Make  quick 
Your  flight,  and  to  your  king  say  this  :  Not  his 
The  empire  of  the  sea,  the  trident  dread  :  ^ss 
They  were  alloted  me.    Some  rocky  wilds 
He  holds,  thy  home,  East  wind.    There  in  his  courts 
Let  ^olus  make  boast ;  there  rule  supreme 
Within  the  pent-up  prison  of  the  winds." 

So  saying,  quicklier  than  said,  he  calms  »^ 
The  swollen  sea,  dispels  the  gathered  clouds. 
And  brings  again  the  sun.    From  off  the  reefs 
At  once,  with  Triton's  help,  Cymothoe 
Doth  lift  the  boats,  while  he  his  trident  lends, 
Great  sand-banks  pries  apart,  then  stills  the  deep  ^^s 
And  in  his  light  car  o'er  the  water  rolls. 
So  riot  oft  in  some  great  mob  begins  j 


Triton. 

From  the  Vaticaa. 


BOOK  I. 


15 


The  low-bred  herd  grow  frantic ;  all  at  once 
Stones  fly  and  fire-brands ;  frenzy  finds  them  arms. 
Yet  if  some  man  of  weight  for  worth  and  truth  ^7° 
They  note,  listening  and  still  they  stand  while  he 
Rules  with  a  word  their  wills  and  calms  their  ire. 
So  all  this  tumult  of  the  deep  subsides 
When  o'er  the  waters  forth  the  Father  looks 
And,   through  the  clear  air  gliding,  guides  his 
steeds 

And  gives  them  rein,  while  swiftly  flies  his  car. 

Worn  out,  the  Trojans  struggle  now  to  reach 
The  nearest  shore,  and  turn  to  Libya's  strand. 

The  spot,  an  inlet  deep.    An  island  there 
With  outstretched  arms  makes  port,  where  every 
wave 

From  seaward  breaks  and  faints  in  gentle  ebb. 
High  cliffs  each  side ;  twin  summits  threaten  heaven. 
While  'neath  them  rests  the  water  safe  and  still. 
Above  it  lean  a  stretch  of  glinting  leaves. 
And  groves  of  sombre  shade.    In  front,  a  cave  ^^s 
Of  hanging  rock,  cool  springs  within,  and  seats 
Of  living  granite — grotto  of  the  nymphs. 
There  needs  no  hawser  for  the  weary  craft, 
No  anchor  with  its  crooked  fluke  to  hold, 
-^neas  enters  here  with  seven  boats  left  *9o 
Of  all  his  fleet.    The  Trojans,  wild  to  land. 
Leap  out  and  seize  the  beach  they  longed  for  so ; 
There  drenched  with  brine,  they  stretch  them  on 
the  sand. 

Quick  from  the  flint  Achates  strikes  a  spark. 

Then  feeds  the  fire  with  leaves,  dry  kindlings  heaps  *9S 


i6 


THE  iENEID. 


Above,  and  through  the  fuel  fans  the  flame. 
Though  fagged  with  toil,  they  land  their  sea-soaked 
grain 

And  milling  ware,  and  haste  to  parch  with  fire 
What  corn  is  saved,  and  grind  it  with  a  stone. 

Meantime  ^neas  mounts  the  cliff  and  scans 
All  out  to  sea  the  view,  if  haply  he 
Find  Antheus  tossed,  the  two-banked  Phrygian  boats, 
Capys,  or,  high  astern,  Caicus'  shield. 
No  ship  in  sight,  but  on  the  shore  he  sees 
Three  wandering  stags.    Whole  droves  are  at  their 
heels, 

And  through  the  glades  the  long  line  feeds.  He 
stops, 

And  catches  up  the  bow  and  arrows  swift 
Which  good  Achates  holds.    The  leaders  first, 
Lifting  their  tall  heads  and  their  branching  horns, 
He  strikes,  and  next  the  herd.     Then,  with  his 
shafts,  2" 
All  through  the  leafy  grove  he  scatters  them, 
Nor  stays  the  conquest  till  —  one  for  each  boat  — 
He  stretches  seven  huge  carcasses  aground. 
With  these  he  seeks  the  harbor,  and  among 
His  men  divides  them  all.    Divides  he,  too, 
The  wine  which,  when  from  the  Sicilian  shore 
They  came  away,  Acestes,  kindly  host. 
Had  put  in  casks  and  given  to  them.  Then  he  speaks. 
And  calms  their  sorrowing  hearts :  "  O  friends,  for  oft 
Have  we  been  made  acquaint  with  ills  —  oh  ye,  ^"-^ 
Who  worse  have  borne,  these  too  the  gods  will  end. 
The  rage  of  Scylla's  rocks,  that  roared  far  down, 


BOOK  1. 


17 


Ye  met.     Ye  dared  the  Cyclopean  reefs. 

Pluck  up  your  hearts !   Away  weak  fears !   Some  day 

May  yet  be  happier  for  remembering  this.  "5 

With  varied  lot,  through  many  risks  we  go 

To  Latium,  where  a  quiet  home  is  sure : 

Ours  there  the  Trojan  kingdom  to  rebuild  ! 

Be  brave,  and  keep  yourselves  for  better  things." 

So  speaks  :  but,  faint  with  carking  care,  he  feigns  230 
Cheer  on  his  face,  and  keeps  his  sad  heart  down. 
They  for  the  game  and  coming  feast  prepare, 
Rip  from  the  ribs  the  hide,  and  bare  the  flesh ; 
Some  fix  on  spits  the  quivering  strips  they  cut ; 
Some  brazen  kettles  set,  and  tend  the  fires.  235 
Food  plucks  their  courage  up  :  stretched  on  the  grass. 
They  fill  them  with  old  wine  and  juicy  steaks. 
Hunger  with  feasting  stayed,  the  tables  cleared. 
They  linger,  talking  back  their  missing  mates. 
In  doubt,  'twixt  hope  and  fear,  whether  to  think  ^40 
These  live,  or,  past  all  pangs,  answer  no  more 
Their  comrades'  call.    Pious  ^neas  most 
Mourns  by  himself  now  bold  Orontes'  lot, 
Now  that  of  Amycus,  Lycus'  sad  fate. 
And  both  brave  Gyas  and  Cloanthus  brave.  245 

So  the  day  closed.    Then  from  ethereal  heights 
Down-looking  on  the  sail-swept  sea,  on  earth 
Outspread,  on  shores  and  nations  vast,  stood  Jove 
At  heaven's  high  arch,  and  scanned  the  Libyan 
realms. 

To  him  heart-weary  of  such  great  concerns,  250 
Sadder  than  wont,  her  bright  eyes  dinimed  with  tears, 
Venus  appeals  :  "  Oh  thou,  who  reign'st  fore'er 
2 


i8 


THE  ^NEID. 


O'er  all  things  human  and  divine,  and  who 
With  thunder  aw'st,  what  wrong  to  thee  so  great 
Could  my  ^neas  or  the  Trojans  do,  255 
That,  suffering  death  in  every  form,  now  shuts 
The  world's  whole  orb  to  bar  them  Italy  ? 
'Twas  sure  thy  promise  that  from  them  one  day, 
In  years  to  come,  should  Roman  sovereigns  spring, 
Restored  from  Teucer's  seed  to  native  soil,  260 
To  hold  o'er  earth  and  sea  unbroken  sway. 
Father,  what  influence  turns  thee  now  ?    With  this, 
Offsetting  fate  to  fate,  I  better  bore, 
In  sooth,  the  sack  and  awful  fall  of  Troy ; 
And  yet,  though  through  so  many  hardships  haled,  265 
Still  the  same  fortune  dogs  these  men.    What  end 
Unto  their  miseries  dost  thou  give,  great  king  ? 
Antenor,  'scaping  from  the  Grecian  midst, 
Could  safe  essay  th'  Illyrian  seas,  the  far 
Interior  kingdom  of  Liburnia  reach,  270 
And  pass  beyond  Timavus'  fountain-head. 
Where  by  nine  mouths  it  pours  a  rushing  sea 
Mid  the  loud  echoes  of  the  hills,  and  whelms 
The  fields  with  ocean's  roar.    Yet  founded  he 
The  city  Padua  there,  built  Trojan  homes,  275 
Gave  to  a  nation  name,  the  arms  of  Troy 
Hung  up,  and  in  sweet  peace  is  now  at  rest. 
Thy  seed,  whom  thou  did'st  pledge  a  throne  in 
heaven, 

Our  galleys  wrecked,  we  glut  one  woman's  hate. 

Ye  gods  !  and  from  the  shores  of  Italy 

Are  torn  afar.    The  meed  of  piety 

Is  this  ?    Dost  so  restore  us  to  our  realm  ?  " 


BOOK  1. 


19 


Half  laughing  at  her,  with  the  look  that  calms 
The  storms  of  heaven,  Father  of  men  and  gods. 
He  kissed  his  daughter's  lips,  and  this  he  said :  285 
"  Queen  of  Cythera,  spare  thy  fears.  Unchanged 
Remains  thy  children's  fate  ;  the  promised  walls 
And  city  of  Lavinium  thou  shalt  see. 
And  bear  magnanimous  ^neas  high 
To  starry  heaven.    Me  no  influence  turns. 
Nay,  lest  care  fret  thee,  I  will  thee  disclose  — 
The  secret  scroll  of  destiny  unrolled  — 
That  he  in  Italy  shall  wage  great  wars. 
Subdue  bold  tribes,  give  laws  and  homes  to  men, 
While  he  three  summers  shall  in  Latium  reign,  295 
And  winters  three  succeed  the  overthrow 
Of  the  Rutulians.    But  Ascahius  next. 
His  boy,  lulus  then  —  Ilus  it  was, 
While  reigned  the  Trojan  state  —  shall  empire  hold 
Thirty  full  circles  of  on-rolling  months,  300 
Then  move  his  kingdom  from  Lavinium's  seat, 
And  Alba  Longa  gird  with  mighty  walls. 
There  full  three  hundred  years  shall  Hector's  race 
Be  king,  till  the  nun-princess  Ilia  bear 
To  Mars  two  children  at  a  single  birth.  305 
Thence  Romulus,  proud  of  his  tawny  robe 
Of  wolf  that  nursed  him,  shall  the  nation  sway, 
A  fortress  build,  and,  from  his  own  name,  call 
It  Rome,  to  which  no  mete  of  power  or  time 
I  set,  but  give  it  empire  without  end.  310 
E'en  vengeful  Juno,  racking  now  with  fear 
Sea,  earth  and  heaven,  shall  turn  to  better  thoughts, 
And  love,  like  me,  the  Romans,  when  they  wear 


20 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  toga  and  are  masters  of  the  world. 
Such  is  my  will.    Swift  years  will  bring  a  day  3is 
When  sons  of  Troy  shall  hold  in  servitude 
Phthia  and  renowned  Mycenae,  lording  it 
Over  a  vanquished  Argos.    Then  shall  spring 
Caesar  of  noble  Trojan  stock,  whose  rule 
The  ocean  bounds,  whose  fame  the  stars  —  the  name 
Of  Julius  his  from  great  lulus  drawn. 
Him,  laden  with  the  spoils  of  Orient, 
Thou  sure  shalt  have  at  last  in  heaven :  he,  too. 
With  prayers  shall  be  invoked.     Then,  wars  shall 
cease ; 

A  hard  age  melt ;  white  Faith  and  Purity,  325 

The  sainted  brother  souls  of  Romulus 

And  Remus  mould  the  laws ;  and  War's  grim  gates 

Shall  shut  with  iron  bars  and  solid  joints, 

While  godless  Fury  howls  within,  enthroned 

On  brutal  arms,  hideous  with  bloody  mouth,  330 

And  with  a  hundred  brazen  chains  bound  back." 

So  Jove  replies :  and  sends  down  Maia's  son 
To  make  the  Trojans  welcome  to  the  soil 
And  new-built  roofs  of  Carthage ;  Dido  else. 
Heedless  of  fate,  had  barred  them  from  her  bounds.  335 
He  glides,  with  wings  for  oars,  through  airy  space : 
Now  stands  on  Libya's  shore,  and  does  what  bid. 
The  Carthaginians  at  his  will  abate 
Their  churlishness;  but  most  their  queen's  kind 
heart 

And  gentle  thoughts  befriend  the  Trojan  guests.  340 

Pious  ^neas,  tossed  all  riight  with  care, 
Soon  as  the  blessed  day-light  breaks,  goes  forth 


BOOK  L 


21 


To  explore  new  paths,  to  find  upon  what  coast 

The  winds  have  blown  him,  whether  men  or  beasts 

Dwell  in  its  wilds,  and  to  his  crews  report  34S 

The  truth.    Beneath  the  cliffs  o'erarched  with  woods, 

Shut  round  with  forests  and  their  sombre  shade. 

He  sees  his  fleet.    Sole  comrade  of  his  way, 

Achates  swings  two  broad-head  iron  spears. 

Half  through  the  wood  his  mother  thwarts  his  path  350 

With  maiden  face  and  garb,  with  weapons  like 

A  Spartan  girl's,  nay,  like  the  Thracian  maid 

Harpalyce,  who  wearies  out  her  steeds, 

And  faster  than  swift  Hebrus  runs.    So,  too. 

Her  light  bow  o'er  her  shoulder  she  had  flung,  355 

And  loosed  her  hair  to  revel  with  the  winds. 

Her  knee  just  bared,  a  huntress  with  her  frock's 

Full  folds  ingathered  with  a  knot.    She  first 

To  speak :  "  Pray  tell  me,  masters,  have  you  chanced 

To  see,  here  wandering,  any  mate  of  mine,  360 

With  quiver  girt  and  spotted  robe  of  lynx, 

The  panting  wild  boar  chasing  with  a  shout." 

So  Venus ;  but  the  son  of  Venus  thus  : 
"  Naught  have  I  heard  or  seen  of  mate  of  thine, 
O  maiden,  whom,  with  neither  mortal  face  365 
Nor  human  voice,  I  know  not  how  to  call. 
Oh !  goddess  sure,  Apollo's  sister  thou 
Or  kin  of  nymphs !  whoe'er  thou  art,  be  kind. 
Lighten  our  toil,  and  tell  us  'neath  what  sky, 
Upon  what  border  of  the  world  at  last  370 
We  are  astray.    We  wander  ignorant  all 
Of  habitant  or  place,  here  driven  by  winds 
And  billows  vast.    So,  many  a  victim,  struck 


22 


THE  ^NEID. 


By  my  right  hand,  shall  at  thine  altars  fall." 

Then  Venus  said:  "  I  am  not  worth  such  rites.  375 
Oft  thus  we  Tyrian  girls  the  quiver  bear, 
And  high  with  purple  buskin  bind  the  leg. 
It  is  the  Carthaginian  realm  thou  seest, 
The  city  of  Agenor's  countrymen, 
Of  Tyrian  colonists  on  Lybia's  soil,  380 
A  stubborn,  warlike  race  by  Dido  ruled. 
Who  fleeing  from  her  brother  came  from  Tyre. 
Her  wrong  is  great,  the  story  long ;  yet  will 
I  touch  its  outer  lines.    Sichaeus  was 
Her  husband,  richest  man  in  Tyre,  and  loved  385 
With  all  the  heart  of  his  ill-fated  wife. 
While  yet  a  maid,  her  father  gave  her  him 
With  every  blessing  on  the  match.    Ah  !  then 
Pygmalion,  her  own  brother,  was  the  king 
Of  Tyre,  in  crime  no  monster  such  as  he.  390 
A  quarrel  rose.    Blasphemer,  blind  with  lust 
For  gold,  all  reckless  of  his  sister's  heart. 
By  stealth  he  stabbed  Sichaeus,  off  his  guard 
And  at  the  altar-front.    Long  time  he  hid 
The  deed.    With  lies  and  lies  the  villain  tricked  395 
Her  yearning,  hope-deluded,  broken  heart 
Till  her  unburied  husband's  ghost,  his  weird 
Pale  visage  lifting,  came  to  her  in  sleep. 
Unwrapped  the  dagger-stab  upon  his  breast, 
And  bared  the  bloody  altars  and  the  whole  400 
Hid  horror  of  the  house.    He  bids  her  haste 
To  flee  her  native  land.    To  help  her  on. 
He  shows  her  treasures  in  the  earth,  a  mass 
Unknown  of  silver  and  of  gold.    So  spurred, 


BOOK  I. 


23 


She  makes  to  fly,  and  seeks  allies,  whome'er  40s 

The  cruel  tyrant  hates  or  meanly  fears. 

What  galleys  hap  be  fitted  out,  they  seize 

And  load  with  gold.    The  wealth  Pygmalion  craved 

Is  borne  to  sea  —  a  woman  at  the  fore. 

This  spot  they  found,  where  now  you  see  great 

walls  —  ' 
New  Carthage  with  its  rising  citadel ; 
Here  land  they  bought,  as  much,  called  Byrsa  thence, 
As  with  a  bull's  hide  they  could  circle  in. 
But  who  are  ye  ?  from  what  shore  do  ye  come  ? 
And  whither  go  ? "    With  sighs,  and  from  a  full  415 
Heart's  depths,  to  her  inquiries  he  replies : 
"  Were  I  to  tell,  O  goddess,  or  could'st  thou 
But  stay  to  hear,  the  story  of  our  toils 
From  first  till  now,  the  evening  star  would  seal 
The  shut  of  day  behind  the  sunset  bars.  ■♦«» 
From  ancient  Troy,  if  ever  to  your  ears 
The  name  of  Troy  hath  come,  o'er  many  seas 
Conveyed,  the  storm's  caprice  hath  forced  us  make 
This  Libyan  coast.    Pious  ^neas  I, 
Who  carry  in  my  fleet  my  country's  gods,  425 
Which  from  the  foe  I  saved.    My  fame  surmounts 
The  stars.    I  seek  to  go  to  Italy, — 
Land  of  my  sires,  who  sprang  from  mighty  Jove. 
My  goddess  mother  pointing  out  the  way, 
With  twenty  boats  I  rode  the  Phrygian  sea,  430 
Obeying  the  decrees  of  fate.    Scarce  seven. 
Shattered  by  wind  and  wave,  remain.    And  I, 
From  Europe  and  from  Asia  driven,  unknown, 
In  want,  here  through  the  wilds  of  Libya  stray.'* 


24 


THE  ^NEID. 


She  could  not  bear  to  hear  him  sorrow  more,  43s 
And  interrupted  thus  his  grief  midway  : 
"  Whoe'er  thou  art,  I  cannot  think  thou  liv'st 
To  breathe  the  invigorating  air  and  reach 
Our  Tyrian  gates,  yet  the  gods  hate  thee  so. 
Straight  hence  go  to  the  threshold  of  our  queen,  440 
For  if  my  blinded  parents  taught  me  not 
In  vain  the  art  of  augury,  I  behold 
Thy  shipmates  back,  thy  fleet  restored,  safe  sped 
By  change  of  wind.    Lo !  there,  a  line  of  twelve 
Exultant  swans,  whom  late,  swooping  from  forth  44S 
The  cloudless  sky,  Jove's  eagle  scattered  far 
And  wide  beneath  the  outstretching  heavens  ;  now 
They  seem  to  take  the  earth,  then  all  at  once 
To  be  down-looking  at  it.    E'en  as  they, 
Their  peril  over,  sport  with  flapping  wings,  45° 
And  circle  round  about,  and  burst  in  song, 
So  too  thy  craft  and  crews  either  in  port 
At  anchor  lie,  or  make  it,  all  sail  set. 
Go  on,  and  where  the  way  leads,  guide  thy  feet." 

She  spake,  but,  as  she  turned,  flashed  from  hei 
neck  455 
A  rosy  glow :  ambrosial  tresses  breathed 
A  heavenly  fragrance  from  her  head :  her  robe 
Fell  flowing  down  along  her  feet :  and  lo  ! 
There  was  the  very  goddess  in  her  step. 
He  knew  his  mother  then,  and,  as  she  fled,  460 
Pursued  and  cried :  "  Why,  cruel  too,  dost  thou 
Delude  thy  son  with  sembling  shapes  ?  Why  may 
Not  we  clasp  hand  with  hand,  and  know  we  speak 
And  hear  each  other's  voice  ?  "    Thus  he  complains, 


BOOK  I. 


25 


And  toward  the  city  wends.    But  as  they  go,  ^^'^ 
Venus  with  mist  and  many  a  cloudy  fold 
Veils  them,  that  none  can  either  see,  or  touch. 
Or  stay,  or  ask  them  why  they  come.  Upborne, 
She  glides  to  Paphos,  glad  again  to  rest 
In  her  own  haunts.    Her  temple  there;  and  there  47*. 
Glow  with  Sabaean  myrrh  her  hundred  shrines 
That  breathe  with  fragrance  from  fresh  dewy  flowers. 

Meantime  they  hasten,  keeping  to  the  path. 
And  now  they  mount  a  hill,  which  high  o'erhangs 
The  town  and  looks  down  fronting  on  its  towers.  47s 
^neas  wonders  at  so  great  a  town  — 
Where  yesterday  were  huts  —  its  gates,  its  streets. 
Its  busy  stir.    The  Tyrians  hard  at  work, 
Some  lay  out  walls,  the  turret  raise,  or  roll 
Hugh  rocks  hand  over  hand,  while  others  choose  480 
And  with  a  furrow  mark  out  dwelling  lots. 
They  build  for  laws  and  courts  and  senate  grave. 
Here  some  dig  down  to  set  the  city  gates : 
The  deep  foundations  of  the  theatre 
Here  others  lay,  and  hew  great  granite  shafts  485 
High  raised  to  decorate  the  coming  stage. 
'Tis  like  the  busy  industry  of  bees. 
That  in  the  early  summer-time  all  day 
Through  flowery  fields  lead  forth  their  adult  young, 
Or  store  the  exuding  honey  and  distend  490 
Their  cells  with  the  sweet  sap,  or  take  from  those 
Who  come  their  load  of  sweets,  or  with  a  rush 
Drive  from  the  hives  the  drones  —  a  sluggard  swarm: 
The  work  glows  on^:  sweet  thyme  the  honey  breathes. 
His  eyes  uplifted  o'er  the  city's  heights,  495 


26 


THE  iENEID. 


^neas  cries  :  "  Oh  happy  ye,  whose  walls 
Already  rise !  "    Enveloped  in  the  cloud, 
He  mingles  with  the  throng,  advancing  through 
Its  midst,  yet  strange  to  say  is  seen  by  none. 

Just  in  the  centre  of  the  city  stood  s*^ 
A  grove  of  thickest  shade,  in  which,  when  first 
The  Carthaginians  came  after  their  toss 
By  wind  and  wave,  at  royal  Juno's  hint 
They  dug  and  found  the  head  of  a  wild  horse,  — 
A  sign  the  race  would  be  renowned  in  war,  505 
With  ease  a  sovereign  power  for  centuries  thence. 
Sidonian  Dido  here  a  temple  vast 
To  Juno  was  erecting,  rich  in  gifts. 
And  in  the  favor  of  the  goddess  blest. 
Above  its  steps  a  brazen  threshold  rose  ;  s»o 
Door-posts  of  brass  adjoined ;  and  brazen  doors 
Upon  their  hinges  creaked.    'Twas  here  the  first 
New  gleam  of  fortune  banished  fear.    Here  first 
^neas  dared  for  safety  hope,  and  put 
A  braver  trust  in  his  adversities.  5»s 
For  while,  the  queen  awaiting,  he  surveys 
All  parts  of  the  great  temple,  and  admires 
The  artists'  varying  handiwork,  their  slow 
Laborious  pains,  and  wonders  what  will  be 
The  city's  fate,  he  sees,  in  order  ranged,  szo 
The  Ilian  fights,  the  story  of  a  war  * 
Now  known  throughout  the  world :  there  Atreus'  sons 
He  sees,  and  Priam,  and,  implacable 
To  both,  Achilles.    Rooted,  and  in  tears, 
^neas  cries:  "What  spot,  Achates,  now,  525 
What  region  of  the  world,  but  echoes  back 


BOOK  1. 


27 


The  story  of  our  woes  ?    Lo,  Priam  there  ! 
E'en  here  hath  worth  reward,  and  grief  its  tears, 
And  human  sorrows  touch  the  heart.  Away 
With    fear ;    such    fame   will    some  deliverance 
bring."  530 
Upon  the  painted  counterfeit  he  feeds 
With  many  a  groan,  tears  pouring  down  his  face. 

For  this  he  sees.    Battling  around  the  walls 
Of  Troy,  here  fly  the  Greeks,  the  Trojan  ranks 
Pursue:  here  fly  the  Trojans  from  the  crest  S35 
And  chariot  of  Achilles  charging  home. 
Close  by,  he  weeps  to  see  again  the  tents 
Of  Rhesus  with  their  curtains  white  as  snow. 
Whose  camp  no  sooner  sleeps  than  sleep  betrays, 
And  bloody  Diomed  with  slaughter  fills,  S4o 
Its  thirty  steeds  impounding  ere  they  taste 
Of  Trojan  grass  or  drink  from  Xanthus'  stream. 
Elsewhere,  the  flight  of  Troilus,  wretched  boy,  — 
No  match  to  fight  Achilles ;  armor  off. 
His  horses  drag  him,  hanging  on  his  back  S45 
Behind  an  empty  car,  yet  holding  fast 
The  reins :  his  hair  and  shoulders  scrape  the  earth ; 
The  inverted  spear  writes  blood  upon  the  dust. 
And  next,  their  hair  aflight,  beating  their  breasts, 
The  Trojan  mothers  to  the  temple  go  55° 
Of  angry  Pallas,  and,  sad  suppHcants, 
Bring  there  their  gift,  a  rich  embroidered  robe  : 
Away  the  goddess  turns  and  keeps  her  eyes 
Riveted  on  the  ground.    Around  the  walls 
Of  Troy  three  times  Achilles  Hector  drags,  sss 
His  lifeless  body  bartering  there  for  gold. 


28 


THE  ^NEID. 


Then  did  indeed  ^neas  groan  aloud, 

E'en  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  to  see 

The  captured  arms,  the  car,  the  very  corse 

Of  his  dear  friend,  and  Priam  stretching  out  s6o 

His  feeble  hands.    There  saw  he,  too,  himself 

Thick  in  the  fight  amid  the  Grecian  chiefs, 

Swart  Memnon's  banner,  and  the  Eastern  troops. 

Fiery  Penthesilea  leads  on  her  ranks 

Of  Amazons,  armed  with  their  crescent  shields ;  s^s 

She  mid  the  host  burns  eager  for  the  fray. 

A  golden  zone  bound  'neath  her  swelling  breast. 

Warrior  and  maid,  she  dares  to  cope  with  men. 

While  thus  yEneas  at  these  w^onders  stares, 
Entranced  and  held  in  one  unbroken  gaze,  570 
Dido  into  the  temple  comes  in  state, 
The  loveliest  shape  on  earth,  a  numerous  train 
Of  courtiers  round  her.    So  Diana  leads 
Upon  Eurotas'  banks  or  Cynthus'  heights 
The  choral  dance,  a  thousand  mountain-nymphs  szs 
In  bosky  clusters  following  here  and  there ; 
A  quiver  from  her  shoulder  flung,  she  glides 
Along  and  towers  above  them  all,  while  joy 
The  peaceful  bosom  of  Latona  thrills. 
And  such  was  Dido :  happy  thus  she  bore  s8o 
Herself  amid  the  throng,  upon  her  work 
And  future  realm  intent.    Before  the  gates 
Of  her  own  goddess,  'neath  the  temple's  arch. 
High  on  her  throne  and  girt  with  armed  men 
She  sits.    Unto  her  subjects  she  begins  s^s 
Administering  justice  and  the  law, 
Due  shares  of  v.^ork  assigns  or  draws  by  lot, 


BOOK  L 


29 


When  all  at  once  ^neas  sees  approach  — 

A  great  crowd  following  after  them  —  Antheus, 

Sergestus,  brave  Cloanthus,  and  with  them  590 

Yet  other  Trojans,  whom  the  storm  had  spersed 

Upon  the  deep  or  forced  to  other  shores. 

He  and  Achates  both,  alike  'twixt  joy 

And  fear  distraught,  are  hot  to  clasp  right  hands. 

Eager,  yet  puzzled  by  this  strange  event,  595 

They  keep  concealed,  and  through  their  cloudy  veil 

Look  out  to  learn  what  fate  these  men  have  had, 

Where  on  the  shore  they  leave  their  boats,  and  why 

They  thither  come.    For  spokesmen  now  advance, 

Selected  from  the  crews,  who  audience  ask, 

And  seek  the  temple  with  their  loud  appeal. 

Admitted  with  full  leave  to  speak  the  queen, 
Ilioneus,  the  oldest,  calmly  thus 
Begins  :  "  O  queen,  whom  Jupiter  permits 
To  stablish  this  new  city  and  control 
A  haughty  people  with  just  rule,  storm-tossed 
O'er  every  sea  we  wretched  men  of  Troy 
Implore  thee,  do  not  loose  upon  our  fleet 
The  outraging  flames.    Spare  thou  a  pious  race, 
And  heed  more  nearly  our  necessities.  610 
Not  to  destroy  with  sword  these  Tyrian  homes. 
Or  pile  the  shore  with  pillage,  have  we  come. 
Our  hearts  lodge  not  such  insolence,  nor  is't 
The  humbled  make  so  bold.    There  is  a  tract, 
The  Grecians  call  its  name  Hesperia  :  'tis  ^'i 
An  old  land,  stout  at  war,  and  rich  its  soil ; 
The  Enotrians  tilled  it  once.    But  now  'tis  said 
That  their  descendants  name  it  Italy  — 


30 


THE  ^NEID. 


Some  chieftain's  name.   Thither  our  course,  when  lo  I 

Stormy  Orion  strode  above  the  deep,  620 

The  South  wind  beat,  the  sea  broke  over  us 

And  forced  us  on  hid  shoals,  and  drove  us  far 

O'er  waves  and  lurking  rocks.    Few  left,  we  drift 

Upon  these  shores.    What  race  of  men  are  these  ? 

What  churlish  land,  that  hath  such  usages } 

We  are  denied  the  shelter  of  the  beach : 

They  fight  us  and  forbid  us  e'en  to  step 

Upon  the  margin  of  the  shore.    But  know. 

The  gods  lay  up  the  good  deed  and  the  bad. 

^neas  was  our  king ;  no  man  of  truer  worth, 

None  braver  lives  in  war  and  arms.    If  him 

The  fates  preserve,  if  still  he  breathes  the  air. 

Nor  yet  within  the  fatal  shadow  lies, 

No  fear  for  us,  nor  e'er  wilt  thou  regret 

Thou  strov'st  to  do  the  first  kind  offices. 

War-stores  we  have  in  Sicily,  there  too 

Kin  cities,  and  renowned  Acestes  born 

Of  Trojan  stock.    Let  us  but  beach  our  boats. 

Now  shattered  with  the  storm,  and  fit  us  spars 

Out  of  these  woods,  and  cut  new  oars,  that  we  ^4© 

With  gladdened  hearts  may  hence  for  Latium  push 

And  Italy,  if  ours  it  be,  with  king 

And  mates  restored,  e'er  Italy  to  reach ; 

But  if,  O  best  of  Trojan  leaders,  thou. 

Our  savior,  art  no  more,  and  Libya's  sea  ^^s 

Engulfs  thee,  nor  is  any  hope  that  yet 

lulus  lives,  then  that  we  may  at  least 

Seek  the  Sicilian  sea,  the  settlements 

A-lready  made  from  which  we  hither  came, 


BOOK  I. 


31 


And  king  Acestes."    Thus  Ilioneus, 
And  all  the  other  Trojans  make  assent. 

Then  briefly  Dido  speaks  with  modest  look : 
"Let  fear  depart  your  hearts,  and  have  no  care. 
Necessity,  the  newness  of  the  state 
Force  me  to  do  this,  and  with  sentinels  ^ss 
To  guard  my  stretch  of  coast.    Who  does  not  know 
Of  Troy,  its  people  and  their  valorous  deeds, 
Its  heroes  and  the  blaze  of  its  great  war  ? 
We  Carthaginains  have  not  hearts  so  hard, 
The  sun  yokes  not  his  steeds  so  far  from  this 
Our  Tyrian  city.    If  it  be  ye  seek 
The  great  Hesperia  and  the  Italian  fields, 
Or  Eryx'  land  and  king  Acestes,  I 
Will  aid  you  with  my  means,  and  send  you  safe 
Away;  or,  would  you  stay  on  equal  terms  ^^s 
Within  my  realm,  this  city  which  you  see 
Is  yours.    Bring  up  your  fleet.    From  Troy  or:  Tyre 
Shall  no  distinction  make  with  me.    I  would 
Thy  king,  ^Eneas'  self,  by  the  same  storm 
Compelled,  were  here  !  Nay,  now  along  the  coast  ^7° 
Will  I  send  trusty  men,  and  bid  them  search 
The  extremes  of  Lybia  through,  if,  cast  ashore. 
He  be  astray  in  any  wood  or  town." 

At  this  ^neas  and  Achates  start ; 
Impatiently  they  burn  to  burst  the  cloud,  675 
Achates  is  the  first  to  speak  :  "  What  thought 
Is  in  thy  heart,  O  goddess-born  ?    Thou  see'st 
All  safe,  the  fleet,  the  men  preserved.    There  lacks 
But  one,  and  him  we  saw  before  our  eyes 
Go  down  amid  the  waves.    The  rest  respond 


32 


THE  ^NEID. 


According  to  thy  mother's  augury. 

Scarce  spake  he  ere  at  once  the  enfolding  cloud 

Dispersed  and  faded  into  open  air. 

Forth  stood  ^neas  luminous  in  light : 

In  face  and  shoulders  like  a  god  he  was  : 

For  o'er  her  son  his  mother  breathed  the  charm 

Of  youthful  locks,  the  ruddy  glow  of  youth, 

A  generous  gladness  in  his  eyes :  such  grace 

As  carver's  hand  to  ivory  gives,  or  when 

Silver  or  Parian  stone  in  yellow  gold  ^90 

Is  set.    A  sudden  apparition  there 

Before  them  all,  thus  speaks  he  to  the  queen : 

"  I,  whom  thou  seek'st,  Trojan  ^neas,  snatched 

From  out  the  Libyan  waves,  before  thee  stand. 

Oh  thou  that  hast  alone  compassion  felt  ^95 

For  Troy's  unutterable  woes,  and  would'st 

Thy  home  and  city  share  with  us  whom,  reft 

Of  all,  the  Greeks  did  spare  but  to  be  racked 

With  every  peril  of  the  land  and  sea  !  — 

Nor  ever  we,  nor  can  the  Trojan  race,  700 

Where'er  upon  the  globe  its  remnants  are. 

Render  thee.  Dido,  gratitude  enough. 

But  may  the  gods  bless  thee  as  thou  deserv'st 

If  any  powers  there  be  that  honor  worth, 

If  any  sense  of  justice  any  where,  705 

Or  any  mind  self-conscious  of  the  right ! 

Happy  the  age  that  bore,  the  pair  that  gave 

Thee  birth !    While  rivers  in  their  channels  run. 

While  shadows  float  o'er  mountain  side,  and  stars 

Feed  on  the  pastures  of  the  sky,  thy  name,  710 

Thy  praise,  thy  honor  shall  forever  live 


BOOK  I. 


33 


Whatever  land  may  call  me  hence."    He  spake ; 
Then  with  his  right  hand  grasped  Ilioneus, 
Sergestus  with  his  left,  and  after  them 
Brave  Gyas,  brave  Cloanthus,  and  the  rest.  7»s 

Dazed  first  to  see  the  hero,  next  to  hear 
So  sad  a  tale,  Sidonian  Dido  spake : 
"  Son  of  a  goddess  thou,  what  fate  is  this 
Pursues  thee  through  so  many  risks !    What  wrath 
Hath  forced  thee  on  this  savage  coast !    Art  thou  720 
Not  that  ^neas,  whom  sweet  Venus  bore 
Trojan  Anchises  at  the  Simois'  strearrj 
In  Troy  ?    I  mind  me  now  that  Teucer  once 
To  Sidon  came,  expelled  his  native  land, 
To  find,  with  Belus'  aid,  new  realms  to  rule. 
For  Belus  then,  my  sire,  was  laying  waste 
The  fertile  land  of  Cyprus,  which  he  held 
In  his  victorious  grasp.    Since  then,  to  me 
The  fall  of  Troy,  thy  name,  the  Grecian  kings, 
Are  household  words.    Teucer,  although  a  foe,  730 
Was  wont  to  give  the  Trojans  glowing  praise. 
Wishing  to  trace  his  own  birth  to  the  same 
Old  stock  as  theirs.    Come  then,  brave  men,  and  rest 
Under  our  roofs.    Through  many  perils  tossed, 
Me  too  hath  a  like  fortune  forced  at  length  73 s 

To  settle  here.    Acquaint  with  grief,  I  learn 
To  lend  a  helping  hand."    As  thus  she  speaks. 
She  leads  ^neas  'neath  the  royal  dome, 
And  orders  sacrifices  at  the  shrines. 
For  his  companions  on  the  shore  as  well  740 
She  hurries  down  a  drove  of  twenty  beeves, 
A  hundred  bristling  backs  of  heavy  swine, 
3 


34 


THE  .ENEID. 


A  hundred  fat  lambs  with  their  dams  —  the  gifts, 

And  joy  in  giving,  of  a  soul  divine. 

Within  her  palace,  furnished  with  the  warmth  745 

Of  royal  luxury,  and  beneath  its  arch 

They  spread  a  banquet.    There  might  you  behold 

Robes  of  rich  purple,  wrought  with  nicest  art : 

Tables  with  massive  silver  ware  :  and  bossed 

On  gold,  brave  deeds  of  sires,  the  whole  long  list  750 

Of  great  events,  from  when  the  race  began, 

Through  hero  after  hero  running  down. 

A  father's  love  e'er  tugging  at  his  heart, 
^neas  sends  Achates  swiftly  back 
To  tell  Ascanius  what  has  happed,  and  bring  755 
Him  to  the  town.    All  the  fond  father's  care 
Is  for  Ascanius.    Gifts  he  bids  him  fetch 
Once  rescued  from  the  sack  of  Troy ;  a  cloak 
With  gold  and  figures  stiff ;  a  veil  with  flowers 
Of  bright  acanthus  on  its  border  wrought,  —  760 
The  ornaments  that  Grecian  Helen,  when 
She  sought  unholy  wedlock,  brought  from  home. 
Her  mother  Laeda's  wondrous  gifts  to  her;  — 
Also  a  staff  that  once  Ilione, 

Oldest  of  Priam's  daughters,  used  to  bear;  765 
A  beaded  necklace,  and  a  crown  twice  girt 
With  precious  stones  and  gold.    To  hasten  these. 
Achates  now  was  wending  to  the  boats. 

But  Venus  has  new  schemes,  new  wiles  at  heart, — 
That  Cupid,  changing  face  and  look  with  sweet 
Ascanius,  in  his  stead  shall  come  to  fire 
The  queen  already  glowing  at  the  gifts. 
And  kindle  burning  in  her  very  bones. 


BOOK  I. 


35 


For  she  distrusts  the  intriguing  house  of  Tyre, 

The  two-tongued  Tyrians.    Still  at  Juno's  wrath  775 

She  frets  ;  night  after  night  her  fears  return  : 

And  so  she  says  to  Cupid  —  Love  with  wings  — 

"  My  son,  my  life,  my  might,  who  dar'st  alone 

Contemn  the  giant  bolts  of  Jupiter, 

To  thee  I  fly,  and  ask,  a  suppliant  here. 

Thine  aid.    Thou  know'st  ^neas,  brother  thine, 

Is  tossed  at  sea  from  every  shore,  because 

Of  Juno's  unjust  hate  :  and  in  my  grief 

Thou  too  hast  often  grieved.    Now  Dido,  she 

Of  Tyre,  is  toling  him  with  tender  words ;  7R5 

I  fear  me  how  the  hospitalities 

That  Juno  sanctions,  yet  may  turn,  for  she 

Will  never  stay  her  hand  in  such  a  pinch. 

And  so,  anticipating  her,  I  would 

Ensnare  the  queen  and  fetter  her  in  flame,  790 

So  she,  with  me,  shall  to  -^neas  cling 

With  love  so  great  no  power  can  loosen  it. 

Now  how  to  do  it,  hear  my  plan.    This  boy. 

My  darling  care,  who  yet  shall  be  a  king, 

At  his  fond  father's  call  prepares  to  go  795 

Up  to  the  Tyrian  city  bearing  gifts. 

Relics  from  shipwreck  and  the  flames  of  Troy. 

But  I  will  hide  him,  stupefied  with  sleep, 

Within  some  hallowed  nook  on  Ida's  top 

Or  on  Cythera's,  lest  the  trick  he  learn  8<w 

And  interrupt  it  when  but  half  complete. 

Just  one  night  counterfeit  his  look,  and,  boy 

Thyself,  put  on  this  boy's  familiar  face  : 

So,  when,  all  happiness,  shall  Dido  take 


36 


THE  ^NEID. 


Thee  to  her  breast,  the  sumptuous  banquet  spread, 
The  wine  of  Bacchus  poured,  and  fold  thee  close 
And  press  sweet  kisses,  thou  shalt  then  inbreathe 
Insidious  fires, —  the  poison  of  deceit." 

Heeds  Cupid  his  dear  mother's  bidding,  doffs 
His  wings  and,  chuckling,  walks  lulus'  gait. 
But  Venus  through  lulus'  limbs  instills 
A  quiet  sleep  and,  gathered  to  her  breast, 
Takes  him  to  Ida's  lofty  groves,  where  sweet 
The  marjoram  breathes  over  him ;  in  flowers 
She  folds  him  up  and  in  delicious  shade  j  8*5 
While  Cupid,  mindful  of  his  mother's  wish. 
Brimful  of  fun,  Achates'  hand  in  his, 
The  royal  presents  to  the  Tyrians  brings, 
And  comes  to  find  the  queen  already  sits 
Centred  on  couch  of  precious  stuffs  and  gold. 

Father  ^neas  and  the  Trojan  men 
Gather  and  lie  upon  the  purple  robes ; 
Servants  bring  water  for  the  hands,  serve  bread 
From  baskets,  and  give  napkins  shorn  and  soft. 
Within,  a  hundred  women-servants  cook 
The  food,  and  keep  the  household  shrines  ablaze. 
A  hundred  more,  and  just  as  many  men 
Of  equal  age,  upon  the  tables  serve 
The  food,  and  lay  the  glasses.    Also  come 
The  Tyrians  crowding  up  the  merry  hall, 
To  lie  upon  the  figured  couches  bid. 
They  gaze  enraptured  at  Eneas'  gifts, 
And  at  lulus,  at  the  god's  flushed  face 
And  his  dissembled  prattle,  at  the  cloak 
And  veil  with  the  acanthus'  yellow  flower 


BOOK  I. 


37 


Inwrought.    But  most  of  all,  poor  Dido,  doomed 

To  suffer  soon,  her  heart  ne'er  full  enough, 

Burns  but  the  more  the  more  she  gazes  there, 

Won  by  the  gifts  and  by  the  child  alike. 

The  boy,  first  clinging  in  ^Eneas'  arms 

And  round  his  neck,  and  breathing  back  the  deep 

Affection  of  the  cheated  father's  heart. 

Attacks  the  queen;  with  all  her  soul  and  eyes 

O'er  him  she  hangs,  upon  her  breast  the  while 

Caressing  him — unconscious.  Dido,  how  ^^s 

All-powerful  the  god  that  nestles  there. 

He,  mindful  of  his  mother,  hastes  to  dim 

The  memory  of  Sichaeus  more  and  more. 

And  with  a  living  love  to  wake  again 

Long  slumbering  passions  in  her  fallow  heart.  ^5° 

Soon  as  the  banquet  stays,  the  tables  cleared. 
They  bring  great  bowls  ;  they  crown  the  wine ;  the  roof 
Echoes  their  mirth ;  loud  through  the  ample  halls 
Their  voices  ring;  the  golden  ceilings  blaze 
With  hanging  lamps,  and  darkness  flies  before  ^ss 
The  torches'  glare.    The  queen  calls  for  a  cup. 
Heavy  with  gems  and  gold,  by  Belus  once, 
And  since  by  all  from  Belus  used.    With  wine 
She  fills  it  high.    Then  silent  is  the  hall. 
"O  Jove,"  she  cries,  "since  thou  art  said  to  fix  860 
The  laws  of  hospitality,  make  thou 
Happy  this  day  alike  to  them  from  Tyre 
And  them  from  Troy !  Come  Bacchus,  Fount  of  mirth ! 
Good  Juno  too  !   And  ye,  my  Tyrians  too, 
Cheer  on  and  celebrate  the  feast."    She  spake,  ^65 
Poured  on  the  board  an  offering  from  the  wine, 


38 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  to  the  rest  just  touched  her  dainty  lips ; 
Then  gave  it  Bitias,  hurrying  him  till  he, 
Too  quickly  drinking  from  the  unsteady  cup, 
Did  drench  him  from  the  o'erflowing  brim  of  gold.  ^70 
Then  other  elders  drank.    His  golden  lyre 
Long-haired  lopas,  by  great  Atlas  taught, 
Awakes  to  life  :  he  sings  the  wandering  moon ; 
The  journeys  of  the  sun  ;  whence  human  kind 
And  beasts;  from  whence  the  lightning  and  the 
storm ;  875 
Arcturus,  and  the  rainy  Hyades, 
And  the  Two  Bears ;  and  why  the  winter's  sun 
So  eager  hurries  to  the  ocean's  surge. 
And  why  its  weary  nights  drag  on  so  slow. 
Tyrians  and  Trojans  rival  in  applause.  ^^o 

In  varied  talk  poor  Dido  ekes  the  night; 
She  drinks  deep  draughts  of  love,  inquiring  much 
Of  Priam,  and  of  Hector  much  ;  now  asks 
What  was  the  armor  of  Aurora's  son, 
Now  what  the  steeds  of  Diomed,  and  next  ^^s 
How  great  a  chief  Achilles.    "  Nay,  begin, 
O  guest,"  she  says,  "  and  tell  me,  from  the  first, 
The  story  of  the  wily  Greeks,  the  woes 
Thy  countrymen  endured,  thy  journeyings; 
For  now  the  seventh  summer  brings  thee  here,  '^o 
A  wanderer  over  every  land  and  sea." 


SECOND  BOOK. 


nr^HEN  all  were  still,  their  faces  fixed  on  his, 

While  from  his  couch  ^neas  thus  began  :  — 
Thou  bid'st  me,  queen,  renew  a  grief  no  words 
Can  speak,  —  to  tell  thee  how  the  Greeks  crushed  out 
The  Trojan  state, — the  kingdom  that  will  live  j 
Forever  in  the  pity  of  the  world  — • 
And  paint  the  misery  I  saw  —  great  part 
Of  which  I  also  was.    What  Myrmidon, 
What  Dolop,  or  what  soldier  of  the  stern 
Ulysses  e'en,  when  telling  such  a  tale,  " 
Could  keep  from  tears  ?   Already  dewy  night 
Hastes  down  the  sky,  and  waning  stars  persuade 
To  sleep.    Yet  if  there  be  such  eagerness 
To  know  our  lot,  the  final  agony 
Of  Troy  in  brief  to  hear,  e'en  though  my  heart  *s 
Aches  at  the  memory,  and  with  grief  relucts, 
I  will  go  on. 

War-worn,  by  fate  repelled. 
So  many  years  already  gliding  by. 
The  Grecian  chiefs,  with  Pallas'  help  divine, 
A  horse  big  as  a  mountain  build,  and  sheathe  ^ 
Its  ribs  with  laths  of  fir.    They  feign  that  it 
A  votive  offering  is  for  safe  return  ; 
And  so  the  story  goes  abroad.  Within 
Its  gloomy  sides  they  stealthily  conceal 
Selected  men,  and  with  armed  soldiery  ^5 


40 


THE  ^NEID. 


Its  great  deep  hollows  and  its  belly  fill. 

In  sight  lies  Tenedos,  a  famous  isle 
And  rich,  so  long  as  Priam's  kingdom  stood, 
Now  but  a  port  unsafe  to  anchor  in. 
Here  borne,  they  hide  on  its  deserted  shore.  30 
We  thought  them  gone  and  under  sail  for  Greece  : 
And  so  all  Troy  relaxes  from  its  long 
Constraint.    Wide  swing  the  gates,  and  out  we  go 
To  view  the  Grecian  camp,  the  abandoned  fields, 
The  lonely  shore.    Here  camped  the  Dolop  men,  3s 
We  say;  here  stern  Achilles  ;  here  the  boats 
Lay  up,  and  here  the  troops  in  battle  fought. 
Some  stare  astonished  at  the  fatal  gift 
To  the  immaculate  Minerva  feigned. 
And  wonder  at  the  horse's  size.    And  first  *° 
Thymoetes,  whether  by  deceit,  or  so 
At  last  the  fates  of  Troy  compelled,  suggests 
Within  the  walls  to  bring  and  place  it  near 
The  citadel.    But  Capys  and  the  men 
Of  better  wit  entreat  into  the  sea  « 
To  throw  or,  setting  fires  beneath,  to  burn 
The  gift  which  they  suspect  an  ambuscade 
Of  Greeks,  or  else  its  hollow  womb  explore 
And  try  its  hiding-places.    'Twixt  the  two 
The  crowd  divide,  uncertain  which  is  right.  5° 
Foremost  of  all,  a  great  throng  following  him, 
Comes  running  from  the  temple,  all  aglow, 
Laocoon,  who  shouts  while  yet  far  off  : 
"  Ye  fools,  what  madness  are  ye  at  ?    Do  ye 
Believe  the  enemy  withdrawn,  or  think  55 
That  any  gift  of  Greek  is  free  from  cheat  ? 


BOOK  11. 


41 


Is  this  your  notion  of  Ulysses'  make  ? 

Either  within  this  wood  are  Grecians  hid, 

Or  some  machine  it  is,  built  to  assault 

Our  walls,  command  our  roofs  and  override  ^ 

Our  city ;  or  some  other  snare  is  in't. 

Trojans,  trust  not  the  horse!   Whate'er  it  is, 

I  fear  a  Greek  e'en  when  he  brings  a  gift." 

As  thus  he  spake,  he  whirled  with  lusty  force 

His  heavy  spear  against  the  horse's  side, 

Against  the  joints  that  made  the  belly's  curve. 

Quivering  it  stuck ;  and  from  the  echoing  womb 

Sounded  the  hollow  depths  and  gave  a  groan. 

Then,had  the  gods'  decrees  been  kind,  nor  we 

Of  reason  reft,  his  spear  had  made  us  bare  7° 

That  den  of  Greeks  :  thou,  Troy,  would'st  now  be  up ; 

And,  Priam's  lofty  palace,  thou  would'st  stand ! 

But  lo !  some  Dardan  shepherds  then  appeared, 
Bringing  with  outcries  loud  before  the  king 
A  man  whose  hands  were  tied  behind  his  back,  7S 
And  who,  intending  it,  had  put  himself, 
A  stranger,  in  their  way  to  bring  to  pass 
Just  what  to  pass  had  come,  and  to  the  Greeks 
Lay  open  Troy ;  in  purpose  resolute. 
Prepared  for  either  fate  —  to  win  the  game, 
Or  meet  a  certain  death.    The  Trojan  youth. 
Eager  to  see,  rush  crowding  round  him  close. 
And  vie  in  insults  to  the  prisoner. 
Mark  now  the  cunning  of  the  Greeks,  and  learn 
Them  all  from  the  iniquity  of  one  !  85 
For  while,  all  eyes  on  him,  with  trembling  limbs 
He  stood  unarmed,  and  restlessly  his  glance 


42 


THE  iENEID. 


Ran  o'er  the  Trojan  throng,  "Alas,"  he  cried, 
"  What  land,  what  ocean  now  can  shelter  me  ? 
What  is  there  left  at  last  to  such  a  wretch,  90 
For  whom  there  is  no  place  among  the  Greeks, 
On  whom  the  Trojans,  deadlier  yet,  now  claim 
Their  vengeance  in  his  blood  ?  "    Our  very  hearts 
Are  melted  at  his  sobs,  all  our  ill-will 
x\llayed.    We  bid  him  tell  us  Vv^hat  his  race,  9s 
What  'tis  he  seeks,  and  show  what  claim  he  has, 
A  captive,  on  our  mercy ;  till  at  length 
He  lays  aside  all  fear,  and  thus  he  speaks : 

"  All  will  I  tell  thee  truthfully,  O  king, 
Whate'er  my  fate  may  be.    Not,  first  of  all, 
Do  I  deny  I  am  a  Greek :  nor,  though 
Bad  luck  has  hunted  Sinon  to  despair, 
Shall  it  make  him  a  cheat  and  liar  besides. 
Hearsay  perchance  has  fetched  your  ears  the  name 
Of  Palamedes,  one  of  Belus'  race, 
Of  great  and  glorious  fame,  whom  innocent. 
The  accusation  false,  the  evidence 
Corrupt,  the  Greeks  condemned  to  death,  for  that 
He  counselled  peace.     Now  he  is  dead,  they  mourn. 
Near  kin  to  him,  my  poor  sire  sent  me  here  "° 
His  comrade  in  the  earliest  of  the  war. 
Long  as  he  stood  secure  within  his  realm. 
And  in  the  councils  of  the  state  was  strong, 
I  also  had  some  name  and  weight :  but  when. 
Through  sly  Ulysses'  hate  —  I  speak  of  what  "5 
I  know  —  from  earth  he  passed,  in  gloom  and  grief 
I  dragged  a  harassed  life,  my  soul  enraged 
At  my  unguilty  kinsman's  fall.    And,  fool, 


BOOK  11. 


43 


I  blabbed :  I  swore,  should  any  chance  occur, 
Should  I  to  native  Argos  e'er  go  back,  "° 
I  would  avenge  his  wrongs.    My  tongue  provoked 
A  bitter  hate :  thence  first  on  me  there  fell 
The  blight  of  calumny.    Forever  thence, 
Ulysses  terrified  and  threatened  me, 
Spread  poisonous  rumors  through  the  camp,  and 
sought,  "5 
Conscious  of  his  own  guilt,  my  taking  off. 
Nor  did  he  rest  until,  with  Calchas'  help  — 
But  why  do  I  thus  to  no  purpose  dwell 
On  his  ingratitude?  why  you  delay. 
If  ye  hold  all  the  Greeks  alike  ?    Enough  ^30 
Have  ye  already  heard :  now  wreak  your  wrath  ! 
'Tis  what  Ulysses  wishes,  and  the  sons 
Of  Atreus  will  reward  you  lavishly." 

Blind  to  a  plot  so  deep,  and  Grecian  craft, 
We  burn  the  more  to  learn  and  know  the  truth.  ^35 
False-hearted,  feigning  fear,  he  speaks  again : 
"  Oft  wished  the  Greeks  to  fly,  forsaking  Troy, 
And,  weary  of  war's  long  delay,  depart. 
Would  they  had  gone !   Yet  e'er  as  oft,  fierce  gales 
At  sea  blockaded  them,  or  at  the  winds 
They  flinched  when  on  the  point  to  go.    But,  ah ! 
All  heaven  did  thunder  with  the  storm,  when  once 
The  maple  framework  of  this  horse  was  up  ! 
In  doubt,  we  sent  Eurypylus  to  get 
The  oracles  of  Phoebus,  from  whose  shrine  ^-^s 
This  hard  response  came  back:  Whe?!  first  ye  sought 
The  Trojan  shores^  O  Greeks,  ye  calmed  the  winds 
With  blood  of  maiden  slain.     With  blood  again 


44 


THE  ^NEID. 


Beg  your  return,  and  with  a  Grecian  life 

Appease  the  gods.    When  this  command  we  heard,  '5<5 

Each  heart  stood  still,  an  icy  shiver  searched 

The  very  marrow  of  our  bones,  in  dread 

Who  'twas  the  fates  decreed,  or  Phoebus  claimed. 

Then  'twas  with  loud  pretence  Ulysses  dragged 

The  prophet  Calchas  in  our  midst,  and  asked  ^ss 

What  meant  this  bidding  of  the  gods.     There  were 

Who  warned  me  of  the  trickster's  fell  design, 

Yet  unprotesting  saw  my  fate  draw  near. 

Ten  days  the  seer  was  mute  :  he  feigned  the  while 

Unwillingness  by  voice  of  his  to  doom 

Or  any  soul  devote  to  death.    At  length, 

And  loth,  urged  by  Ulysses'  loud  demands, 

He  spake  the  word  :  me  marked  he  for  the  knife. 

"  And  all  approved :  the  fate  each  feared  for  him, 
Turned  to  the  doom  of  one,  they  lightly  bore.  ^^s 
The  evil  day  was  now  at  hand  :  for  me 
The  sacrificial  rites,  the  salted  cakes, 
The  fillets  for  my  head  were  bid.    I  own 
I  snatched  me  from  the  jaws  of  death;  my  chains 
I  broke  ;  I  skulked  all  night,  and  lay  concealed  »7o 
Within  the  muddy  rushes  of  a  lake, 
Till  they  should  set  their  sails,  if  sail  they  would. 
No  more  I  hope  to  see  my  own  old  home. 
My  darling  children  or  my  longed-for  sire. 
Ah !  hap  from  them,  for  my  escape,  the  Greeks  ^7S 
Will  wring  the  penalty,  and  expiate 
My  crime  in  their  unhappy  death.    And  so, 
By  all  the  gods,  in  all  the  conscious  power 
Of  truth,  in  holy  faith  if  any  still 


BOOK  II. 


45 


There  be  in  man,  I  beg  thee  pity  woes 
So  deep,  a  soul  that  suffers  undeserved." 

For  tears  like  these,  we  spare  his  life  and  give 
Our  pity  too,  Priam  the  first  to  loose 
The  cords  and  chains  that  bind  the  man,  and  speak 
To  him  these  kindly  words  :  "Who'er  thou  art, 
Forget  henceforth  the  Greeks,  now  dead  to  thee ; 
Be  ourSj  and  tell  me  true  the  things  I  ask. 
Why  built  they  this  huge  monster  of  a  horse? 
Whose  thought  was  it?    What  purpose  does  it  serve? 
Is't  votive  gift, or  enginery  of  war?" 
Sinon,  instructed  in  the  Grecian  plot 
And  stratagem,  lifts  to  the  stars  his  hands 
From  fetters  free  :    "  Oh  ye  eternal  fires," 
He  cries,  "  inviolable  sanctities, 
Ye  altars  and  the  cruel  knife  I  fled,  »9S 
Ye  holy  fillets  I  a  victim  wore. 
Bear  witness  ye,  it  is  my  sacred  right 
To  sunder  my  allegiance  to  the  Greeks, 
To  hate  the  race,  and  all  their  frauds  unearth ! 
My  country's  laws  no  longer  fetter  me.  ^oo 
Do  thou,  O  Troy,  but  make  thy  promise  good. 
And,  saved  thyself,  keep  faith  with  me,  and  I 
The  truth  will  tell,  and  pay  thee  richly  back. 

"  The  Greeks'  sole  hope,  their  trust  e'er  since  the  war 
Began,  stood  always  in  Minerva's  help.  ^^s 
But  from  the  time,  when  godless  Diomed 
And,  machinator  of  all  wickedness, 
Ulysses  from  her  holy  temple  dared 
The  sacred  statue  of  the  goddess  tear  — 
Dared  kill  the  keepers  of  her  citadel,  «?« 


46 


THE  ^NEID. 


Spirit  away  her  sacred  effigy, 
And  touch  with  bloody  hands  her  virgin  locks  — 
From  that  time  forth  the  ardor  of  the  Greeks 
Hath  ebbed  and,  faltering,  oozed  away,  their  power 
Been  broken,  and  the  goddess'  favor  gone.  215 
Nor  did  Minerva  give  a  doubtful  sign. 
Scarce  was  the  statue  set  in  camp,  when  gleams 
Of  fire  shot  from  her  angry  eyes,  salt  sweat 
Ran  down  her  limbs,  and,  marvellous  to  tell, 
Thrice  from  the  ground  she  leaped,  shaking  her 
shield  220 
And  quivering  spear.    At  once,  so  Calchas  sang. 
Must  they  fly  o'er  the  sea,  nor  e'er  would  Troy 
Succumb  to  Grecian  arms,  till  they  anew 
In  Greece  observed  the  omens,  and  restored 
The  goddess,  o'er  the  sea  brought  back  with  them  225 
In  their  curved  boats.    So  now  to  native  Greece 
They  go.    Arms  and  companion  deities 
They  ready  make,  and  suddenly,  the  sea 
Re-crossed,  will  hither  come  again.    For  thus 
Calchas  the  omen  reads.    They,  at  his  hint,  ^3© 
In  lieu  of  Pallas'  statue  built  this  frame 
To  heal  her  wounded  honor  and  atone 
Their  impious  crime.    He  bade  them  raise  aloft 
This  monster  thing,  of  timbers  interstayed. 
And  lift  it  to  the  sky,  so  through  your  gates  *35 
It  be  not  drawn,  nor  dragged  within  your  walls 
And  thus  again  your  people  guarded  be 
By  their  Minerva's  former  tutelage. 
For  should  your  hands  defile  this  gift  to  her. 
Then  utter  wreck  —  which  rather  may  the  gods 


BOOK  II. 


47 


On  Calchas  turn!  — shall  come  to  Priam's  realm 
And  people ;  but  if  by  your  hands  it  go 
Into  your  city,  then  shall  Troy  at  will 
Move  mighty  war  on  Argos'  walls,  and  Fate 
Exchange  our  children's  destiny  for  yours."  ^45 

Through  such  deceit  and  Sinon's  liar's  art, 
His  tale  is  credited :  forced  tears  and  craft 
Take  captive  us,  whom  neither  Diomed, 
Nor  Thessaly's  Achilles,  nor  ten  years. 
Nor  yet  a  thousand  sail  could  overthrow.  250 

Nay,  just  at  this,  a  greater  horror  still. 
Far  more  appalling  to  our  wretched  souls. 
Follows  and  terrifies  our  startled  hearts. 
Laocoon,  a  priest  to  Neptune  he, 
Chosen  by  lot,  at  the  holy  altar  stands  255 
A  huge  bull  sacrificing  when,  behold  ! 
Twin  snakes  —  I  shudder  at  it  still  —  stretch  out 
Upon  the  sea  in  monster  folds,  and  glide 
Over  the  tranquil  ocean,  neck  and  neck, 
From  Tenedos  to  shore.    Above  the  waves  260 
They  rise  abreast ;  their  bloody  crests  o'ertop 
The  tide :  far  out  to  sea  their  bodies  reach. 
Their  huge  backs  sinuous  with  curves.   There  comes 
The  sound  of  rushing  through  the  brine.    And  now 
They  touch  the  land,  their  glaring  eyes  suffused  265 
With  blood  and  fire,  and  lick  their  hissing  mouths 
With  quivering  tongues.    Pale  at  the  sight  we  fly. 
Still  side  by  side,  they  seek  Laocoon : 
At  first,  his  two  sons  there,  each  serpent  winds 
Its  folds  their  little  bodies  round,  and  bites  270 
Their  writhing  limbs.    Him  next  they  seize,  the  while 


48 


THE  ^NEID. 


He  to  the  rescue  hurries,  spear  in  hand. 

Wound  in  their  mighty  coils,  twice  round  his  waist, 

Twice  round  his  throat  their  scaly  backs  they  twist, 

Then  top  him  with  their  heads  and  arching  necks.  =75 

He  struggles  with  his  hands  to  loose  their  grip, 

His  fillets  soaked  with  blood  and  venom  black, 

And  lifts  the  while  heart-rending  cries  to  heaven 

Like  bellowings  of  some  wounded  bull,  that  flies 

The  altar  when  the  ill-aimed  axe  has  glanced  ^So 

From  off  his  neck.    The  two  snakes  glide  away 

Toward  the  tall  temple,  making  for  the  shrine 

Of  stern  Minerva,  hiding  at  her  feet 

Beneath  the  orbit  of  the  goddess'  shield. 

Then  doth  indeed  through  all  our  trembling  hearts  ^Ss 

Fresh  terror  run.    Laocoon,  we  say, 

Thus  justly  expiates  the  crime  he  did 

In  casting  weapon  at  the  sacred  wood 

And  thrusting  in  its  side  his  cursbd  spear. 

All  shout  that  to  the  temple  must  the  horse 

Be  dragged,  the  favor  of  the  goddess  sought. 

We  breach  the  walls,  and  ope  the  city's  gates. 

All  lend  a  hand,  put  rollers  under  foot, 

And  rig  the  neck  with  hempen  tackle.  Up 

Stalks  the  infernal  engine  toward  the  walls,  29s 

Swarming  with  foes.    Boys  and  innocent  girls 

Sing  sacred  songs  around  it,  glad  to  put 

Their  hands  upon  the  rope.    Onward  it  moves, 

A  menace  reeling  to  the  city's  midst. 

Oh  native  land!  Oh  Ilium,  home  of  gods  !  300 

Oh  walls  of  Troy,  illustrious  ye  in  war ! 

Four  times  upon  the  threshold  of  the  gate 


BOOK  II. 


49 


It  stumbled,  and  the  clattering  sound  of  arms 

As  oft  was  heard  within  its  womb.    Yet  blind 

With  folly,  heedless,  on  we  press  and  lift  3os 

The  direful  monster  to  the  citadel. 

'Tis  then  Cassandra  tells  our  coming  doom. 

Whom,  through  Apollo's  work,  no  Trojan  heeds. 

Wretches,  that  day  to  be  our  last,  we  deck 

The  city 's  temples  with  the  festal  leaf.  3io 

Then  the  sky  turns ;  night  rushes  from  the  sea, 
In  shadows  deep  enfolding  heaven  and  earth, 
And  the  Greeks'  plot.    Silent  the  Trojans  lie 
Throughout  the  town ;  sleep  folds  their  weary  limbs. 

Meantime  the  Greek  reserve  from  Tenedos,  3is 
Their  boats  in  line,  sought  the  familiar  shore 
'Neath  the  deep  silence  of  the  kindly  moon. 
Soon  as  the  royal  barge  displayed  a  light. 
Protected  by  the  gods'  unfriendly  aid 
Sinon  lets  stealthily  the  imprisoned  Greeks  sac 
Out  of  the  womb  and  piny  cells.    The  horse. 
Laid  open,  yields  them  to  the  outer  air. 
Forth  from  the  hollow  wood  the  exulting  chiefs 
Pour  out,  escaping  by  a  hanging  rope ; 
Tisandrus ;  Sthenelus  ;  Ulysses  grim ;  3*5 
Athamas  ;  Thoas  ;  Neoptolemus, 
Achilles'  son;  Machaon,  in  the  van; 
And  Menelaus;  and  Epeiis  who 
Devised  the  horse.    They  seize  the  city,  dead 
With  sleep  and  wine.    They  kill  the  sentinels,  330 
Through  open  gates  admit  all  their  allies. 
And  reunite  their  forces  as  designed. 

It  was  the  hour  when  the  first  slumber  falls 
4 


THE  ^NEID. 


On  weary  men,  and,  sweetest  gift  of  gods. 

Creeps  over  them.    In  sleep,  before  my  eyes  33s 

Sad  Hector  seemed  to  stand  and  burst  in  tears. 

So  looked  he,  black  with  dust  and  blood,  when  him 

The  two-horse  chariot  dragged,  his  swollen  feet 

Torn  through  with  thongs.    Ah  me,  the  sight  it  was ! 

How  little  like  that  Hector  who  came  back  340 

Clad  in  Achilles'  spoils,  or  him  who  set 

The  Grecian  fleet  on  fire  with  Trojan  torch,  — 

So  haggard  now  with  squalid  beard,  and  locks 

All  stiff  with  blood,  and  many  a  wound  he  got 

About  his  country's  walls !    In  tears  myself,  34s 

I  seemed  at  once  to  speak  the  man  and  say 

These  solemn  words  :  "  O  light  of  Troy  !  O  hope 

The  Trojans  trusted  most !    What  toils  so  late 

Have  kept  thee.  Hector  ?  From  what  shores  dost  come, 

Awaited  long?    Worn  out,  how  gladly  now  35° 

On  thee  we  gaze,  after  so  many  deaths 

Of  friends,  such  multiplied  calamities 

Of  city  and  of  citizen.    What  hap 

Unmerited  hath  marred  that  noble  face  ? 

Oh  why  those  wounds  do  I  behold  ?  "  He  naught  355 

Explained,  nor  stayed  to  hear  my  idle  quests, 

But  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  groaned, 

And  cried,  "  Oh  !  fly,  thou  goddess'  son.  Snatch  thee 

From  out  these  flames.    The  foe  is  on  the  walls. 

Troy  tumbles  from  her  lofty  top.    Enough  360 

Already  done  for  native  land  and  Priam  ! 

Could  any  hand  guard  Troy,  my  right  hand  'twas 

Had  guarded  it.    To  thee  her  sacred  wares. 

Her  country's  gods  doth  Troy  commend.    Take  them 


BOOK  IL 


Companions  of  thy  fortune,  and  for  them  365 
A  city  seek  which  thou  shalt  mighty  make, 
And  wander  then  the  waves  no  longer."  Thus, 
And  from  the  inner  shrines  the  fillets  brings, 
The  potent  Vesta  and  the  eternal  fire. 

Meantime  confusing  cries  of  grief  arise  370 
From  every  quarter  of  the  town.  Although 
My  father's  house,  Anchises',  lay  remote 
And  hidden  by  the  trees,  the  sounds  grow  clear, 
The  noise  of  battle  thicks.    I  start  from  sleep. 
Climb  the  roof-top,  and  stand  with  ears  alert.  375 
So  when,  before  the  raging  wind,  the  fire 
Is  in  the  grass,  or  from  the  hills  the  flood. 
Swift  rushing  forth,  sweeps  o'er  the  fields,  sweeps  off 
The  ripening  crops,  the  labors  of  the  ox. 
And  drags  the  forests  down,  struck  terror-dumb  380 
The  shepherd  stands  on  some  high  boulder's  top. 
And  listens  to  the  roar.    Ah,  then  how  plain 
Our  trust  betrayed,  the  treachery  of  the  Greeks ! 
Already  falls,  the  fire  o'ercoming  it. 
The  stately  mansion  of  Deiphobus.  385 
Next  burns  Ucalegon :  Sigea's  straits 
Glow  broad  beneath  the  glare.    The  shouts  of  men. 
The  blare  of  trumpets  rise.    Rashly  I  snatch 
My  arms,  nor  stop  to  think  how  little  use 
There  is  in  them,  for  burns  my  soul  to  bring  390 
A  band  of  friends  together  in  the  fight. 
And  with  them  rush  into  the  citadel. 
Anger  and  rage  precipitate  my  mind. 
And  it  seems  glorious,  sword  in  hand  to  die ! 

Lo !  then  escaping  from  the  Grecian  steel,  39s 


52 


THE  ^NEID. 


Pantheus,  the  son  of  Othrys  —  priest  he  was 

In  Phoebus'  temple  —  headlong  to  our  door 

Runs  with  the  sacred  wares  and  vanquished  gods, 

And  drags  his  little  grandson  by  the  hand. 

"Pantheus,"  I  cry,  "where  hottest  is  the  fight  ? 

What  rampart  are  we  holding?"    Scarce  I  speak. 

When  with  a  groan  he  answers,  "  Troy's  last  day, 

The  inevitable  hour,  has  come  at  last. 

Trojans  we  were;  and  Troy  it  was ;  gone  now 

The  mighty  glory  of  the  Trojan  race  !  405 

Merciless  Jupiter  gives  all  to  Greece  : 

Greeks  lord  it  o'er  the  blazing  town.  Midway 

The  city  stands  the  towering  horse,  and  forth 

Pours  arm^d  men,  while  Sinon  spreads  the  flames 

And  of  his  victory  boasts.    Reserves  rush  in  '♦"^ 

Through  gates  thrown  both  wings  back ;  as  many  men 

They  seem,  as  e'er  from  great  Mycenae  came. 

They  barricade  with  spears  the  narrow  streets ; 

The  sword  stands  ready,  edge  and  gleaming  point 

Drawn  to  the  death.    Our  guardsmen  at  the  ports  415 

Scarce  make  a  fight's  beginning,  fending  off 

In  random  skirmishes."    At  Pantheus'  words, 

The  gods  inspiring  me,  into  the  flames 

And  fight  I  rush,  where'er  sad  fate,  where'er 

The  din  and  heaven-echoing  clamor  call.  ^ 

Ripheus,  and  Iphitus  our  oldest  man. 

Ally  themselves  with  me.   Seen  by  the  moon, 

Dymas  and  Hypanis  increase  our  band, 

And  Mygdon's  son,  Choroebus,  who  by  chance 

Had  sped  to  Troy  those  latter  days,  on  fire  435 

With  a  wild  passion  for  Cassandra.  He, 


BOOK  11. 


S3 


A  would-be  son-in-law,  came  bringing  troops 

To  Priam  and  the  Trojans'  aid,  poor  wretch ! 

Yet  heedeth  not  the  auguries  of  his  bride. 

Soon  as  I  saw  them  massing  for  the  fight,  ^so 

I  thus  began  :  "  Warriors  !  hearts  brave  in  vain, 

If  ye  dare  follow  me  who  laugh  at  death ! 

Ye  see  the  fortune  of  the  state.    All  gods 

By  whom  this  empire  stood  have  fled,  their  shrines 

And  altars  left.    The  city  ye  would  save  435 

To  ashes  burns.    Come  death  !  but  let  it  come 

Amid  the  rush  of  battle  ;  e'en  defeat 

One  refuge  hath  —  the  refuge  of  despair." 

Their  courage  thus  to  desperation  nerved, 

Like  robber  wolves  in  darkness  and  in  mist  440 

Whom  the  fierce  rage  of  hunger  blindly  drives — 

Their  whelps,  their  dry  jaws  smacking,  left  behind — 

Through  battle  and  through  foes  to  certain  death 

We  run,  and  force  our  way  straight  through  the  town, 

The  black  night  wrapping  us  in  hollow  gloom.  44s 

The  death,  the  slaughter  of  that  night,  what  words 
Can  tell,  or  who  find  tears  to  match  its  woes ! 
Mistress  of  years,  the  ancient  city  falls ; 
And  through  her  streets,  within  her  very  homes. 
Upon  the  sacred  thresholds  of  her  gods,  4So 
Are  heaped  the  bodies  of  her  dead.    Nor  yet 
The  Trojans  only  pay  the  mulct  of  blood : 
Though  beat,  still  in  their  souls  springs  valor  up. 
The  Greeks,  though  victors,  fal] :  and  everywhere 
There  comes  the  wail  of  grief,  the  look  of  fear,  4ss 
And  death's  pale  shadow  flitting  to  and  fro. 

First  Greek  to  meet  us  there  Androgeos  comes. 


54 


THE  iENEID. 


Leading  a  heavy  squad  and  taking  us 

Unwittingly  for  friendly  ranks.    At  once 

He  speaks  us  fair  :  "  Haste,  soldiers  !  Why  so  late,  460 

Ye  sluggards,  when  the  rest  are  sacking  Troy, 

Plundering  it  while  it  burns  ?    Is  it  but  now 

Ye  come  from  off  your  lumbering  boats  ?  "  He  spake 

And  quick,  no  honest  answer  coming  back. 

Saw  he  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of  foes.  46S 

Struck  dumb,  he  started  backward  as  he  spake. 

Like  one  who,  walking  through  a  briery  copse, 

Treads  heedless  on  a  snake,  and  terrified. 

As  springs  its  head  and  swelling  purple  neck, 

Flies  sudden  back.    Not  less  at  sight  of  us  470 

Androgeos  trembling  turns.    We  make  a  rush, 

With  closed  ranks  hedge  the  foe,  and  slaughter  them 

O'ercome  by  fear  and  ignorant  of  the  place. 

Fortune  breathes  favor  on  our  first  attempt. 

At  this,  exulting  in  success  and  full  475 

Of  fight,  Chorcebus  cries  :  "  Where  Fortune  first 

The  way  of  safety  points,  and  shows  herself 

A  friend,  there,  comrades,  let  us  follow  her. 

Let  us  change  shields,  the  Grecian  armor  don. 

What  matters  it,  in  dealing  with  a  foe,  '♦So 

If  it  be  courage  wins  or  strategem  ? 

They  shall  themselves  the  arms  provide."   So  speaks, 

And  dons  the  crested  helmet,  and  the  shield. 

Blazoned  with  carvings,  that  Androgeos  wore, 

And  buckles  at  his  side  the  Grecian  sword.  48s 

Ripheus  the  like,  and  Dymas  does  the  same. 

And  merrily  the  others  follow  them  : 

Each  arms  him  from  our  recent  spoils.    We  march, 


BOOK  II. 


55 


Blent  in  with  Greeks,  in  armor  not  our  own. 
Full  many  a  contest  hand  to  hand  we  wage  ^9© 
That  tangled  night,  and  many  of  the  Greeks 
We  hurl  to  hell.  Some  scatter  to  their  boats 
And  hurry  to  the  trusty  shore.  Some  scale 
Again  in  shameful  fright  the  monster  horse. 
And  in  its  well  Icnown  belly  hide.  "^95 

Alas! 

What  fools,  e'en  gods  to  trust  when  not  our  friends  ! 

Lo  !  they  were  dragging  by  her  tumbled  hair 

Cassandra,  Priam's  virgin  daughter,  forth 

From  out  the  temple  of  Minerva.  She 

In  vain  lifted  her  pleading  eyes  to  heaven  —  soo 

Only  her  eyes ;  her  slender  hands  were  tied. 

That  sight  Choroebus  could  not  bear,  but  dashed. 

To  frenzy  wrought,  death  staring  in  his  face. 

Into  the  very  centre  of  their  lines : 

We  follow  all,  and  charge  in  solid  ranks.  Jos 

Here  first  we  suffer,  to  the  shots  exposed 

Of  our  own  friends  upon  the  temple's  roof: 

A  horrid  butchery  ensues,  by  fault 

Of  armor  changed  and  sight  of  Grecian  crests. 

With  roars  of  rage,  the  virgin  from  them  torn,  s^o 

Rallying  from  every  hand  the  Greeks  charge  back, 

Ajax  fiercest  of  all,  both  Atreus'  sons. 

And  the  whole  army  of  the  Dolops.  So, 

Encountering  winds,  caught  in  tornado,  writhe  — 

The  wind  from  West,  the  wind  from  South,  the  wind  sis 

From  East  triumphant  on  its  orient  steeds : 

The  forests  roar,  and  Nereus,  dashed  with  foam, 

His  trident  waves,  and  from  its  lowest  deeps 


56 


THE  ^NEID. 


Stirs  up  the  sea.    They,  too,  appear  again 

Whom  we  had  routed  by  our  trick,  and  driven  520 

Amid  the  dark  night's  gloom  throughout  the  town. 

At  once  they  know  the  shields,  the  lying  spears, 

And  mark  the  accent  of  a  foreign  tongue. 

Their  numbers  overwhelm  us  instantly. 

Choroebus  is  the  first  to  fall,  struck  down,  525 

There  at  the  fighting  goddess'  shrine,  by  arm 

Of  Penelus.    Next  Ripheus  falls,  most  just 

And  righteous  man  in  Troy ;  yet  not  for  him 

Are  laxed  that  day  the  mandates  of  the  gods. 

Die  Hypanis  and  Dymas,  killed  by  friends.  530 

Nor  thy  rare  piety,  nor  Phebus'  cowl. 

Saves  thee  from  falling,  Pantheus.    Witness  ye. 

Ashes  of  Troy,  and  latest  breath  of  you. 

My  countrymen,  I  shunned  not,  when  ye  fell, 

Weapon  or  onslaught  of  the  Greeks.    Had  fate  535 

Decreed  my  fall,  I  earned  it  by  my  blows. 

Thence  forced,  we  scatter,  —  Iphitus  with  me, 

And  Pelias  —  Iphitus  weighed  down  with  years. 

And  Pelias  too  made  tardy  by  the  wound 

Ulysses  gave.    That  instant  rose  a  shout  540 

That  summoned  us  to  Priam's  palace,  where 

We  saw  a  mighty  battle  rage,  as  if 

There  were  no  other  war  than  there,  or  none 

Had  fallen  yet  in  all  the  town  —  so  hot 

The  fight,  the  Greeks  beleaguering  the  house  54! 

And  charging  'neath  locked  shields  against  the  gates. 

Their  ladders  hang  upon  the  walls.    They  climb 

The  steps  e'en  to  the  jambs.  With  the  left  hand 

They  lift  their  shields  to  keep  the  missiles  off, 


BOOK  II. 


57 


And  with  the  right  cling  to  the  battlements.  sso 

The  Trojans,  fighting  back,  tear  from  the  roof 

Its  towers  and  tiles  j  with  weapons  such  as  these, 

Now  that  the  last  has  come,  e'en  in  death's  jaws 

They  ready  make  their  fortunes  to  defend. 

Some  hurl  down  gilded  beams,  the  proud  reliefs  555 

That  tell  the  valor  of  their  ancient  sires. 

With  drawn  swords  others  hold  the  doors  below, 

And  at  them  stand  on  guard  in  solid  mass. 

Our  souls  beat  high  to  reach  the  palace  walls. 

And  to  our  fainting  friends  bring  help  and  heart,  s^o 

There  was  an  entrance  by  a  secret  door, 
A  way  connecting  Priam's  palaces, 
A  gate  left  open  in  the  rear,  whereby, 
While  Ilium  stood,  Andromache  the  sad 
Oft  unattended  used  to  go,  when  she  s6s 
Her  Hector's  parents  sought,  and  led  her  boy 
Astyanax  unto  his  father's  sire. 
By  this  I  reach  the  ridges  of  the  roof, 
Whence  the  despairing  Trojans  were  in  vain 
Hurling  their  harmless  missiles  down.    'Tis  there  570 
We  pry  with  bars  about  a  tower  that  stands 
Just  on  the  edge,  built  from  the  roof  so  high 
It  overlooked  all  Troy,  the  Grecian  fleet. 
The  Achaian  camp.  Just  where  'twixt  roof  and  tower 
The  joints  are  lax,  we  from  its  dizzy  height  57S 
Rip  it,  and  throw  it  o'er.    Swift  tumbling  down, 
It  carries  ruin  with  a  crash,  and  far 
And  near  buries  the  Greeks  beneath  its  fall. 
Yet  others  take  their  place.    And  meantime  stones, 
All  sorts  of  missiles  fly  unceasingly.  5S0 


THE  ^NEID. 


Pyrrhus,  before  the  very  vestibule, 
Stands  at  its  entrance,  and  exulting  shouts, 
Gleaming  in  arms  and  mail  of  shining  brass. 
So  in  the  spring,  the  poison-eating  snake. 
Which  in  the  earth  through  winter's  cold  lay  swoln,  s8s 
Now  fresh,  its  skin  sloughed  off,  and  sleek  with  youth, 
Its  breast  uplifted,  rolls  its  slimy  back 
Up  to  the  sun,  its  tongue  with  triple  fangs 
Vibrating  from  its  mouth.    Great  Periphas, 
Automedon  his  armor-bearer,  once  590 
The  driver  of  Achilles'  steeds,  and  all 
His  Scyrian  soldiers  with  him  charge  the  house, 
And  torches  fling  upon  the  roof.  Himself 
Among  the  first,  stout  battle-axe  in  hand. 
Bursts  through  the  gates,  and  from  their  hinges  splits  59b 
The  doors.    Already  hath  he  cut  the  planks. 
Stove  in  the  firm  resisting  wood,  and  made 
An  opening  huge  with  yawning  mouth.  Within, 
The  house  lies  open ;  and  its  spacious  courts. 
The  halls  of  Priam  and  the  ancient  kings  ^ 
Appear,  and  armed  men  standing  at  the  sill. 

Still  farther  in,  wailings  and  cries  of  grief 
Confuse  the  ear ;  the  lofty  ceilings  ring 
With  women's  lamentations,  and  their  shrieks 
Assail  the  glittering  stars.    Through  the  vast  rooms  ^^s 
They  flit  in  terror,  catching  hold  of  doors, 
Clutching  and  kissing  them.    Forward,  with  all 
His  father's  violence  strides  Pyrrhus  on. 
Nor  bar  nor  guard  can  stay  him.    Bolts  give  back 
Before  the  tireless  battering-ram.    Down  go  • 
The  doors  wrenched  from  the  hinge.    Might  makes 
its  way. 


BOOK  II. 


59 


The  Greeks  an  entrance  force,  and,  pouring  through, 

Slaughter  the  first  they  meet,  and  every  nook 

Cram  full  of  soldiery.    So  torrents  burst 

The  river's  banks  and  spread  afoam ;  so  wash 

Away  the  levees  built  to  keep  them  in ; 

So  roll,  in  tumbling  waves,  upon  the  fields, 

And  from  the  farm  its  barns  and  cattle  sweep. 

There  saw  I  Pyrrhus  wantoning  in  blood. 

And  Atreus'  sons  advancing  to  the  front. 

There  saw  I  Hecuba,  and  in  her  train 

The  spouses  of  her  hundred  sons.    I  saw 

Before  the  altar  Priam's  blood  bedew 

The  fires  he  had  so  reverently  kept ; 

Those  fifty  chambers  fall,  hope  of  the  race, 

Their  studding  rich  with  native  gold  and  spoils. 

Whate'er  the  fire-fiend  spares,  the  Greeks  secure. 

Perhaps  you  ask  me  what  was  Priam's  fate. 
Soon  as  he  saw  the  captured  city's  doom, 
His  palace  sacked,  Greeks  in  its  sacred  midst, 
Across  his  shoulders  paralyzed  with  age 
The  old  man  threw  his  armor,  long  disused  — 
So  useless  now  ! — belted  his  nerveless  sword, 
And,  dying,  charged  where  thickest  came  the  foe. 

Midway  the  court,  beneath  the  open  sky  ^3s 
Stood  a  great  altar,  and,  o'erarching  that. 
Enfolding  in  its  shade  the  household  gods, 
A  very  ancient  laurel.  Hecuba 
And  all  her  brood  had  hither  flocked  like  doves 
Before  the  tempest,  huddling  round  the  shrines 
And  clinging  to  the  statues  of  the  gods. 
Soon  as  she  saw  her  Priam  snatching  up 


6o 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  armor  of  his  youth,  she  cried:  "  Alas  ! 

My  wretched  lord  !    What  reckless  frenzy  is't 

That  girds  thee  thus  with  arms  ?  Or  where  dost  thou  '''^s 

Thus  headlong  rush  ?    Not  such  the  help,  nor  such 

The  champion  we  need  —  no,  e'en  though  now 

Were  my  own  Hector  nigh.    But  yield  thee  here  : 

This  altar  all  shall  shelter,  or  we  all 

Will  die  together."    Thus  she  spake,  endeared  ^5^- 

The  old  man  back  to  her,  and  pressed  him  sit 

Upon  the  altar-step. 

Lo !  flying  then 
From  Pyrrhus'  bloody  hand,  Polites,  one 
Of  Priam's  sons,  the  gantlet  of  the  foe 
And  of  their  weapons  runs  ;  wounded  he  leaps  ^ss 
Through  the  long  porticos  and  emptied  halls, 
While  Pyrrhus  follows,  eager  to  strike  home 
The  deadly  blow.    Him  now  he  seems  to  clutch 
Within  his  hand,  now  pricks  him  with  his  spear 
Until  at  last,  before  his  parents'  eyes, 
Into  their  presence  even  as  he  bursts, 
He  falls  aheap,  and  in  a  gush  of  blood 
Pours  out  his  life.    No  longer  then,  though  death 
Encircle  him,  can  Priam  hold  his  peace 
Or  curb  his  anger  or  his  voice.    "  On  thee, 
Who  mak'st  me  see  the  murder  of  my  son. 
And  with  his  death  hath  fouled  a  father's  face, 
On  thee,  for  such  effrontery  and  for  such 
An  outrage,  may  the  gods,  if  yet  there  be 
Justice  enough  in  heaven  to  care  for  such,  670 
Requite  thy  worth  and  pay  thee  thy  deserts ! 
Not  such,  though  Priam  was  his  foe,  was  that 


BOOK  II. 


6i 


Achilles  whom  thou  art  a  liar  to  call 

Thy  sire.    He  blushed  to  violate  the  rights, 

The  faith  due  suppliants  e'en.    He  gave  me  back  ^7S 

For  burial  my  Hector's  bloodless  corse, 

And  sent  me  home  in  safety  to  my  realm." 

Thus  as  the  old  man  spake  he  hurled  his  spear, 

Too  faint  to  wound.     From  off  the  mocking  brass 

Repulsed,  it  hung  all  harmless  from  the  top 

Of  Pyrrhus'  shield,  while  Pyrrhus  thus  roared  back : 

"  Bear  then  —  thyself  the  messenger  shalt  go  — 

Thy  message  to  my  sire  Achilles ;  nor 

Forget  to  tell  him  these  vile  deeds  of  mine, 

And  how  degenerate  Neoptolemus !  ^^s 

Now  die  !  "    And  even  as  he  spake  he  dragged 

Him  trembling  to  the  very  altar's  face, 

Down-slipping  in  his  son's  thick-puddling  gore  ; 

With  left  hand  twisted  up  his  hair,  with  right 

Drew  back  the  glittering  sword,  and  to  the  hilt  ^9° 

Drove  it  into  his  side.    Such  was  the  end 

Of  Priam's  fortunes,  such  the  fate  of  him 

Who,  Asia's  sovereign  once,  so  many  lands. 

So  many  tribes  beneath  his  haughty  sway, 

Saw  Troy  to  ashes  burn  and  Pergamos  ^5 

In  ruins.    On  the  shore  his  great  trunk  lies, 

His  head  from  off  his  shoulders  torn,  a  corse 

Without  a  name. 

Then  all  at  once  I  felt 
A  torturing  fear.    I  stood  o'erwhelmed,  for,  when 
I  saw  the  king,  his  age  the  same,  breathe  out  7<» 
His  life  from  such  a  cruel  stab,  there  came 
To  me  the  image  of  my  own  dear  sire  ; 


62 


THE  .ENEID. 


There  came  the  thought  of  my  deserted  wife 

Creiisa,  and  my  home  to  pillage  left, 

And  the  exposure  of  my  little  son  705 

lulus.    Back  I  turn  to  see  what  friends 

Are  at  my  side.    Exhausted,  all  are  gone. 

Leaping  to  earth  or  fainting  in  the  flames. 

Soon  as  I  found  myself  alone,  I  saw. 
In  Vesta's  temple,  Helen,  keeping  close  71° 
And  slyly  lurking  in  a  shadowy  nook. 
The  bright  flames  flash  upon  her,  as  I  move 
Peering  at  every  thing  and  every  where. 
Alike  the  curse  of  Troy  and  native  land, 
Alike  in  terror  of  the  Trojans  —  who  715 
Abhorred  her  as  the  overthrow  of  Troy  — 
And  of  the  Grecians'  vengeance  and  the  wrath 
Of  her  deserted  husband,  she  had  hid, 
And  by  the  altar  sat,  a  thing  to  hate. 
My  soul  flashed  fire.    The  maddening  impulse  came  720 
To  avenge  my  falling  country,  and  to  wreak 
The  penalty  of  her  accursed  crimes. 
"  Shall  she,  unharmed  forsooth,  return  to  see 
Sparta  and  native  Greece, — go  back  a  queen 
In  triumph  borne,  and  look  upon  her  home,  725 
Her  husband,  parents,  and  her  children  all. 
Accompanied  by  throngs  of  Trojan  dames 
And  Trojan  slaves,  while  Priam  by  the  sword 
Lies  low,  Troy  wrapped  in  flames,  the  Dardan  shore 
So  oft  asweat  with  blood  ?   Never  !    For  though  739 
No  memory  loves  the  name  that  wreaks  revenge 
Upon  a  woman,  nor  is  any  praise 
For  such  a  feat,  yet  shall  I  stand  approved 


Helen  of  Troy, 

'    Sir  Frederick  Leighton. 


BOOK  II. 


63 


If  I  root  out  this  pest  and  execute 

The  sentence  she  hath  earned.    I  shall  delight  735 

To  sate  my  burning  fever  for  revenge, 

The  ashes  of  my  countrymen  atone." 

Thus  was  I  flaming,  near  to  frenzy  wrought, 
When  my  sweet  mother,  never  to  my  eyes 
So  visible  before,  —  goddess  confessed,  —  740 
Broke  on  my  sight,  and  through  the  darkness  shone 
In  holy  light,  such  and  majestic  there 
As  to  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  she  seems. 
With  her  right  hand  she  held  me  back  the  while, 
Opened  her  rosy  mouth,  and  said  :  "  My  son,  745 
What  wrong  hath  raised  in  thee  such  headlong  rage  ? 
What  is  this  frenzy  ?    Where  is  thy  regard 
For  those  we  cherish  both  ?    Wilt  thou  not  first 
Think  where  thou  leav'st  thy  sire  Anchises,  weak 
With  years,  —  whether  Creiisa  still  survives,  750 
Or  still  Ascanius  lives  thy  son }    Round  them 
On  every  hand  the  Grecian  soldiers  hunt. 
And,  but  my  care  kept  guard,  ere  now  the  flames 
Had  forced  them  thence,  or  savage  sword  had  drunk 
Their  blood.    Hate  not  Helen  of  Sparta's  face,  755 
Nor  Paris  blame  :  the  gods',  the  gods'  ill-will 
It  is,  that  blasts  this  realm,  and  from  its  height 
Hurls  Ilium  down.    Behold  !  for  I  will  tear 
Aside  the  cloud  that,  veiling  now  thy  gaze. 
Blunts  mortal  sight  and  shadows  it  in  mist.  760 
Fear  not  thy  mother's  bidding,  nor  refuse 
Her  mandates  to  obey.    Here,  where  thou  see'st 
This  mass  of  fragments,  stone  from  stone  torn  off, 
Neptune,  with  his  great  trident,  shakes  the  walls 


64 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  tottering  foundations  of  the  town,  765 

And  roots  it  from  the  earth.    Here  Juno  holds, 

Fiercest  of  all,  the  Scaean  gates'  approach, 

And  mad  with  rage,  and  girded  with  a  sword, 

Calls  from  the  fleet  the  host  of  her  allies. 

See  !  now  Minerva  sits  the  temple's  top,  770 

Flashing  with  storm  and  savage  Gorgon's  head. 

Even  the  Father  fires  the  Greeks  with  zeal 

And  conquering  might,  and  spurs  himself  the  gods 

Against  the  Trojan  arms.    Take  flight,  my  son, 

And  to  the  battle  put  an  end.    With  thee  775 

Will  I  be  every  where,  and  bear  thee  safe 

Back  to  thy  father's  door."    Ere  she  had  said, 

She  melted  in  the  fissured  shades  of  night. 

Demons  of  dread  and  mighty  deities 

Hover  in  sight,  implacable  to  Troy.  780 

Then  seemed  me  Ilium  to  sink  in  flames. 
And  Troy,  that  Neptune  helped  to  build,  to  heave 
From  its  foundations.  So  on  mountain-top 
Woodsmen,  vying  together,  press  the  fall 
Of  some  old  ash  they  circle,  as  they  cut  7^s 
It  round  with  frequent  clip  of  iron  axe : 
Incessantly  it  nods,  and  trembling  bows 
The  foliage  of  its  shaking  top,  until 
By  littles  yielding  to  the  blows,  at  last 
It  gives  a  groan  and,  from  the  summit  hurled,  790 
Drags  ruin  down. 

Descending  from  the  roof, 
The  goddess  for  my  guide,  I  pass  between 
The  flame  and  foe  :  the  weapons  of  the  Greeks 
Give  way  ;  the  flames  recede.    But  when  I  reach 


BOOK  II. 


6S 


The  threshold  of  my  father's  ancient  house,  795 
And  fain  would  bear  him  to  the  mountain  heights 
At  once,  and  so  begin  entreating  him, 
Disdains  he  to  prolong  his  life,  now  Troy- 
Lies  waste,  or  suffer  exile.    "  Ye,"  he  says, 
"  Whose  blood  is  unimpaired  by  age,  whose  powers 
Stand  firm  in  their  own  strength,  make  good  your  flight. 
Had  the  celestials  wished  my  life  prolonged. 
They  would  have  saved  this  home  of  mine.  Enough, 
More  than  enough,  that  I  one  city's  fall 
Have  seen,  one  captured  town  survived  !  Thus,  thus 
I  lay  my  body  down  :  bid  me  farewell. 
And  go.    This  my  own  hand  shall  find  me  death. 
The  foe  will  pity  though  he  plunder  m.e. 
'Tis  naught,  the  losing  of  a  grave.    Too  long. 
Hated  by  gods,  I  drag  my  useless  years, 
E'er  since  the  Sire  of  gods  and  King  of  men 
Smote  me  with  thunder-blasts,  and  scorched  with  fire." 

He  kept  on  thus,  and  lay  immovable, 
While  we  were  bathed  in  tears  —  Ascanius  there, 
My  wife  Creiisa,  all  the  house — lest  he 
In  his  own  ruin  drag  down  all,  and  force 
Impending  fate.    He  would  not  yield,  but  clung 
To  his  resolve,  and  kept  his  post  unmoved. 

Once  more  I  rush  to  arms,  courting  e'en  death. 
Poor  wretch,  for  what  can  wit  or  fortune  more  ? 
"  Did'st  think,  my  sire,  that  I  could  fly  and  leave 
Thee  to  thy  fate  ?  or  could  my  father's  lips 
Charge  me  so  base  a  thought?    If  the  gods  please 
That  naught  escape  in  such  a  city's  fall,  — 
If  'tis  thy  will  and  pleasure  thee  and  thine 

S 


66 


THE  iENEID. 


To  add  to  Troy's  perdition,  then  the  door 

Wide  open  lies  to  such  a  death  as  that ! 

For  Pyrrhus  from  the  swimming  butchery 

Of  Priam  will  apace  be  here,  who  slew 

The  son  before  the  father's  face,  and  then  830 

The  father  at  the  altar  front.    Is  it 

For  this,  good  mother,  that  through  fire  and  steel 

Thou  rescuest  me  ?  that  I  may  see  the  foe 

Here  in  the  sanctuary  of  my  home,  — 

Here,  weltering  in  each  other's  blood,  my  sire,  ^35 

Creiisa,  and  my  boy  Ascanius  heaped  ? 

Arms,  men,  bring  arms  !    The  hour  that  is  our  last 

Its  martyrs  claims.    Front  me  the  Greeks  again : 

Let  me  renew  the  battle  I  began : 

This  day  we  shall  not  all  die  unavenged." 

But  as  I  buckle  on  my  sword  anew, 
Adjust  my  shield,  my  left  arm  through  its  loops, 
And  sally  from  the  house,  lo  !  round  my  feet 
My  wife  upon  the  threshold  clings,  and  lifts 
Little  lulus  in  his  father's  way  : —  845 
"  If  thou  upon  thy  death  wilt  rush,  yet  take 
Thou  also  us,  so  we  thy  peril  share ; 
But  if,  a  warrior  tried,  with  arms  in  hand 
Thou  hast  in  them  one  lingering  hope,  then  first 
Defend  thy  home  !    With  whom  else  shall  be  left 
Little  lulus,  or  thy  sire,  or  she 
Thou  once  did'st  call  thy  wife."    Imploring  thus. 
She  filled  the  whole  house  with  her  cries  j  when — strange 
The  tale  —  there  came  a  sudden,  wondrous  sign. 
For  lo !  e'en  as  his  wretched  parents  clasped  ^55 
And  gazed  upon  lulus,  on  his  head 


BOOK  II. 


67 


There  seemed  a  slender  jet  of  light  to  blaze. 

Yet,  harmless  in  its  touch,  the  flame  did  lick 

His  clustering  hair  and  round  his  temples  feed. 

Affright,  we  rushed  to  beat  his  burning  locks, 

And  water  flung  to  quench  the  holy  fire. 

But  joyfully  father  Anchises  then 

Raised  to  the  stars  his  eyes,  and  stretched  his  hands 

To  heaven,  and  cried  :  "  Almighty  Jupiter, 

If  any  prayer  can  turn  thee,  look  on  us  ! 

Grant  us  but  this,  and  if  we  merit  aught 

For  piety,  then,  Father,  give  thy  help 

And  sure  confirm  this  present  augury ! " 

Scarce  hath  the  old  man  spoken  :  when  instantly 
It  thunders  on  the  left ;  falling  from  heaven  ^7° 
With  a  great  burst  of  light,  a  star  shoots  through 
The  darkness  like  a  shaft.   High  o'er  the  roof 
We  see  it  glide,  then  clear  on  Ida's  wood 
It  sets,  so  signalling  our  course,  while  still 
The  long  line  of  its  furrow  gleams,  and  far  ^75 
And  wide  its  pathway  smokes  with  sulphurous  fumes. 
At  this  o'ercome  at  last,  my  father  lifts 
His  face  to  heaven,  gives  praise  unto  the  gods 
And  adoration  to  the  sacred  star. 
"  Quick,  quick,  no  more  delay  ;  I  follow  thee, 
And  wheresoe'er  thou  leadest,  there  am  I. 
Gods  of  my  native  land,  preserve  my  race. 
My  grandson  save  !    Your  augury  is  this. 
And  Troy  is  in  your  keeping.    Yea,  my  son, 
I  yield,  nor  more  refuse  to  go  with  thee.  "  ^^s 

He  spake  ;  while  clearer  still,  throughout  the  town. 
The  roaring  fire  is  heard,  and  nearer  rolls 


68 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  flaming  heat.    "  Come  then,  dear  father,  cling 

About  my  neck ;  thee  on  my  shoulders  I 

Will  lift,  nor  ever  tire  'neath  such  a  load.  890 

Whatever  haps,  to  both  alike  shall  fall, 

Our  safety  and  our  danger  ever  one. 

Little  lulus  at  my  side  shall  go, 

Creiisa  on  our  track  and  well  behind. 

Note,  servants,  what  I  say.    There  is  a  knoll  ^95 

Outside  the  city  as  ye  go,  an  old 

Deserted  temple,  Ceres'  once,  and,  near 

To  that,  an  ancient  cypress,  which  our  sires 

Have  kept  religiousl}'  for  many  years  : 

By  various  paths  there  will  we  rendezvous.  900 

Thou,  father,  take  in  hand  the  sacred  wares. 

Our  country's  gods.    Fresh  from  so  fierce  a  fight, 

I  may  not  touch  them,  stained  with  blood,  nor  till 

I  shall  have  washed  me  in  a  living  stream." 

I  spake,  and  with  a  tawny  lion  skin  90s 
Robed  my  broad  shoulders  and  my  bended  neck. 
I  lift  my  load  :  Little  lulus  twines 
His  hand  in  my  right  hand,  and  out  of  step 
Trots  at  his  father's  heels.    Behind  us  walks 
My  wife.    We  go  through  places  dark  with  shade ;  910 
And  me,  whom  late  no  charge  of  foemen's  steel, 
Nor  Greeks  enmassed  in  hostile  ranks  could  move, 
Now  every  whisper  terrifies,  —  no  sound 
So  faint  it  does  not  torture  me  with  fear,  — 
Like  anxious  for  my  hand-mate  and  my  load.  91s 

Just  as  I  neared  the  gates,  and  thought  I  saw 
The  way  all  clear,  sudden  there  seemed  to  break 
Upon  the  ear  the  thud  of  many  feet. 


BOOK  II. 


69 


Forth  looking  through  the  gloom,  my  father  cries : 
"  O  son,  son,  fly !     They  come !    Their  glistening 
shields,  920 
Their  shining  helms  I  see."    In  my  alarm, 
I  know  not  what  malignant  power  confused 
And  robbed  me  of  my  head.    For  while  I  took 
A  by-path,  leaving  the  accustomed  track, 
Alas  !  my  wife  Creiisa,  torn  from  me  925 
By  some  unkindly  fate,  faltered  and  fell, 
Or  strayed  away,  or  sat  exhausted  down  — 
Which  'twas  I  cannot  tell.    Ne'er  to  our  eyes 
Since  then  hath  she  come  back  again.    Nor  till 
We  came  unto  the  knoll  and  Ceres'  old  930 
And  sacred  temple,  did  I  note  her  lost. 
Or  think  upon't.    Collected  there  at  last, 
Of  all  she  only  lacked,  eluding  sight 
Of  everyone,  —  friends,  husband,  and  her  child. 
Frenzied,  what  god  or  man  did  I  not  curse  ?  93s 
In  all  that  sack  what  saw  I  half  so  sad 
Commending  to  my  friends  Ascanius  then. 
Father  Anchises  and  the  Trojan  gods, 
I  hid  them  in  a  sheltered  dell,  then  girt 
My  bright  arms  on,  and  sought  once  more  the  town,  ^4© 
Resolved  all  hazards  to  renew,  all  Troy 
To  search,  and  every  peril  dare  again. 

The  walls,  the  shadowy  portals  of  the  gate 
Through  which  we  came,  I  first  essay,  and  through 
The  darkness  follow  back  and  note  our  steps,  9« 
And  trace  them  by  the  glare.    A  sense  of  dread, 
The  very  silence  everywhere,  all  fill 
My  soul  with  terror.    Thence  I  bear  me  home  : 


70 


THE  .$:neid. 


Perchance,  perchance  her  feet  have  wandered  there. 

The  Greeks  have  entered  it,  and  hold  it  all.  95° 

Even  now  the  hungry  fire  rolls  o'er  the  roof 

Before  the  wind  :  the  flames  o'ermaster  it ; 

The  air  is  boiling  with  the  heat.    I  go 

To  Priam's  palace,  visiting  again 

The  citadel.    In  its  deserted  aisles,  9S5 

At  Juno's  shrine,  picked  captains  of  the  guard, 

Phoenix  and  grim  Ulysses,  all  the  while 

Their  booty  watch ;  here  everywhere  is  strewn 

The  wealth  of  Troy,  snatched  from  its  burning  homes, 

Gods'  tables,  and  great  bowls  of  solid  gold,  960 

And  garments  stripped  from  captives.  Round  about. 

Long  lines  of  boys  and  frightened  women  stand. 

Nay,  even  I  dared  to  shout  throughout  the  town. 
I  filled  the  streets  with  outcries,  and  in  vain. 
Sadly  her  name  repeating,  called  again  96s 
And  yet  again,  Creiisa !  till  to  me, 
Searching  and  raving  endlessly  through  all 
The  houses  of  the  town,  rose  on  my  eyes. 
Larger  than  life,  her  own  sad  effigy, 
Creiisa's  very  ghost.    I  stared  agape,  970 
My  hair  stood  up,  my  voice  stuck  in  my  throat. 
But  soon  she  spake,  and  thus  dispelled  my  fears  : 
"  Sweet  husband,  why  indulge  this  senseless  grief  ? 
What  comes,  comes  by  the  bidding  of  the  gods. 
'Tis  not  ordained,  high  heaven's  King  forbids  975 
To  make  Creiisa  comrade  of  thy  voyage. 
Thy  wanderings  long,  vast  ocean  fields  to  plough, 
Ere  to  Hesperia  thou  shalt  come,  where  flows 
The  Tuscan  Tiber  with  its  gentle  stream 


BOOK  II. 


Mid  fields  whose  richest  crop  is  valiant  men.  980 

There  shalt  thou  win  prosperity,  a  realm, 

A  royal  wife.    Dear  as  Creiisa  was, 

Shed  her  no  tears.    Dolop's  nor  Myrmidon's 

Proud  palace  shall  I  see,  nor  shall  I  go, 

Trojan  and  wife  of  goddess  Venus'  son,  ^ss 

To  wait  on  Grecian  women.    But  the  great 

Mother  of  gods  will  let  me  linger  here 

Upon  these  shores.    And  now  farewell.    Keep  fresh 

My  love  in  loving  him,  thy  child  and  mine." 

Soon  as  she  spake  she  faded  in  thin  air,  '>9o 

And  left  me  weeping,  longing  so  to  say 

A  thousand  things.    Thrice  did  I  try  to  throw 

My  arms  about  her  there,  and  thrice  her  ghost 

Slipped  from  the  empty  clutching  of  my  hands 

Like  the  airy  wind  or  like  a  flitting  dream.  995 

And  so  again,  the  night  far  gone,  I  go 
Back  to  my  friends,  delighted  there  to  find 
Great  numbers  of  new  comrades  have  come  in, 
A  wretched  band  of  matrons,  men  and  youth, 
Gathering  for  exile.    From  all  sides  they  flock, 
Still  stout  of  heart,  and  ready  with  their  all 
To  cross  the  sea,  whatever  land  I  seek. 

By  this,  the  morning  star  was  rising  o'er 
Mount  Ida's  peak,  and  leading  up  the  dawn. 
The  Greeks  were  masters  of  the  humbled  town  :  ^°*5 
No  ray  of  hope  to  serve  it  more.    I  yield, 
Take  on  my  sire,  and  to  the  mountains  turn. 


THIRD  BOOK. 


A  FTER  the  gods  saw  fit  to  overthrow 
^    The  might  of  Asia  and  King  Priam's  race 
That  merited  a  better  destiny  — 
After  proud  Ilium  fell,  and  on  the  ground 
All  Troy,  that  Neptune  helped  to  build,  in  smoke 
And  ashes  lay,  the  heavenly  auguries 
Forced  us  to  seek  far  exile  and  new  lands. 
We  at  Antandros  'neath  Mount  Ida  build 
A  fleet,  —  uncertain  yet  where  fate  doth  point, 
Or  where  to  settle,  —  and  we  get  our  men 
Together.    Scarce  hath  earliest  summer  come 
When  sire  Anchises  bids  spread  to  the  fates 
Our  sails.    In  tears  I  leave  my  native  shores. 
The  port,  the  plain  where  once  was  Troy,  and  go 
An  exile  o'er  the  ocean  with  my  men. 
My  son,  my  household  and  the  greater  gods. 

Straight  off  there  lies,  inhabited  and  farmed 
By  Thracians,  sacred  too  to  Mars,  the  land 
That  once  was  bold  Lycurgus'  realm.    It  long 
Had  been  at  peace  with  Troy,  our  gods  allied 
While  fortune  favored  us.    'Tis  here  I  touch. 
And  on  the  curving  beach,  unlucky  step. 
Lay  the  foundations  of  a  town,  and  call 
It  by  the  name  of  yEnos,  from  my  own. 

There  came  a  day  when  I  was  offering  up 
Religious  rites  to  Venus  and  the  gods 


BOOK  HI. 


73 


Who  to  our  undertaking  had  been  kind, 
A  sleek  bull  sacrificing  on  the  shore 
To  the  celestials'  mighty  sovereign  lord. 
Not  far  away  there  chanced  to  be  a  knoll,  30 
And  on  its  top  a  growth  of  dogwood  shoots 
And  myrtles  bristling  with  a  mass  of  thorns. 
Approaching  it,  out  of  the  ground  I  tried 
To  pull  a  shrub,  that  with  its  leafy  boughs 
I  might  the  altar  cover.    Lo  !  a  sight  3s 
I  saw,  frightful  and  marvellous  to  tell ! 
Soon  as  the  trunk  I  plucked  from  out  the  soil, 
Black  drops  of  blood  from  its  torn  roots  did  fall, 
Clotting  the  sand  with  gore.    Over  my  flesh 
A  chill  of  horror  crept,  my  blood  grew  cold 
And  still  with  fear.    Again  I  dared,  and  plucked 
Another  limber  shoot  to  learn  the  cause 
<       That  lurked  beneath  :  but  from  the  bark  of  this 
The  dark  blood  followed  as  before.  O'ercome, 
I  prayed  the  rustic  Nymphs  and  Mars,  who  rules  45 
Over  these  Thracian  lands,  to  sanctify 
The  vision  and  to  make  the  omen  good. 
But  while  the  third  I  tried  with  stouter  wrench. 
And  struggled  with  my  knees  against  the  sand. 
Up  from  the  bottom  of  the  knoll  —  shall  I  5° 
Speak  out  or  silent  be?  —  a  piteous  groan 
I  heard ;  an  answering  voice  came  to  my  ears : 
"  Why  wound  a  wretch  like  me,  ^neas  ?  Spare 
The  grave,  and  cease  to  foul  thy  pious  hands. 
Troy  bore  me,  not  to  thee  a  stranger ;  nor  ss 
From  any  root  doth  this  blood  flow.    Ah  !  fly 
This  savage  land,  this  avaricious  shore  1 


74 


THE  iENEID. 


For  I  am  Polydoms :  here  transfixed, 

An  iron  crop  of  spears  hath  covered  me, 

And  grown  up  in  sharp  javelin-points."  Ah  !  then,  ^ 

Distraught  with  doubt  and  fear,  I  stared  agape, 

My  hair  stood  up,  my  voice  stuck  in  my  throat ! 

Some  time  before,  when  luckless  Priam  felt 
Distrust  in  Troy's  equipment  for  defence, 
And  saw  the  city  under  siege,  he  sent 
This  Polydorus  stealthily  —  with  him 
A  goodly  weight  of  gold  —  unto  the  king 
Of  Thrace  to  be  brought  up  by  him.    But  he, 
Soon  as  he  saw  the  Trojan  realm  a  wreck. 
And  fortune  fled,  went  over  to  the  side  7° 
Of  Agamemnon  and  his  conquering  arms, 
Outraged  all  guest-rite,  Polydorus  slew, 
And  robbed  him.    O  accursed  thirst  for  gold, 
To  what  dost  thou  not  steel  the  human  heart ! 

Soon  as  my  fright  is  over,  I  report  7S 
Unto  the  people's  chosen  men,  my  sire 
Especially,  these  omens  of  the  gods. 
And  ask  them  what  they  think.    One  answer  comes 
From  all  alike  —  to  leave  that  godless  land. 
To  avoid  its  treacherous  hospitality,  ^ 
And  tempt  the  breezes  to  the  fleet.    We  pay 
Therefore  to  Polydorus  funeral  rites  : 
The  earth  is  heaped  up  in  a  generous  mound ; 
Shrines  are  erected  to  his  ghost,  and  draped 
With  purple  fillet  and  dark  cypress  branch. 
Round  them  the  Trojan  women  walk,  their  hair  un- 
loosed 

As  is  their  wont ;  full  goblets  of  fresh  milk 


BOOK  III. 


75 


And  bowls  of  consecrated  blood  we  pour ; 

Within  the  grave  we  lay  his  soul  at  rest, 

And  last  of  all  we  cry  aloud,  Farewell.  9° 

Soon  as  the  sea  is  calm  and  winds  blow  fair, 
And  to  the  deep  soft  murmuring  zephyrs  call. 
The  sailors  launch  their  boats  and  line  the  shore. 
Forth  as  we  sail,  the  land  and  town  recede. 
'    Mid-ocean  lies  a  most  delightful  land,  95 
Unto  the  mother  of  the  Nereids 
And  Neptune  consecrate  which,  once  afloat 
Amid  the  Archipelago,  the  good 
Bow-god,  Apollo,  pinned  to  Myconos 
And  high-peaked  Gyarus,  and  made  it  firm 
And  fit  to  dwell  upon,  —  no  more  to  be 
The  plaything  of  the  winds.    To  this  I  sail. 
In  harbor  snug,  this  quietest  of  isles 
Receives  us  weary  with  long  voyaging. 
-W€-land  and  bless  Apollo's  city,  while 
King  Anius,  who  was  both  Apollo's  priest 
And  sovereign  of  the  state,  with  fillets  crowned 
And  sacred  laurel  leaves,  comes  running  down 
To  meet  us,  recognizing  his  old  friend 
Anchises.  Welcome  guests,  we  clasp  right  hands,  "° 
And  enter  'neath  his  roof.    I  fall  in  prayer 
In  the  god's  temple  built  of  mossy  rock  : 
"  To  us,  so  weary,  O  Apollo,  give 
Homes  of  our  own,  shelter  of  walls,  a  state, 
A  city  that  shall  last !    This  latter  Troy,  "^"s 
Whate'er  the  Greeks  and  grim  Achilles  spared. 
Have  in  thy  care !    Whom  shall  we  follow  ?  Where 
Dost  bid  us  go  ?    Where  fix  our  homes  ?    Give  sign, 


76 


THE  i?:NEID. 


O  Father,  and  illuminate  our  minds  !  " 

.  Scarce  thus  I  spake,  when  suddenly  the  walls, 
The  holy  laurel  tree,  all  seemed  to  shake. 
The  very  mountain  seemed  to  rock,  the  shrine 
Unfold,  and  mutterings  from  the  tripod  rise. 
Prostrate  we  humbly  fall,  and  then  a  voice 
Comes  to  our  ears  :  "Brave  Trojan  men,  the  land 
That  bore  you  first  from  your  ancestral  stock, 
The  same  shall  take  you  back  to  its  warm  breast. 
Search  out  your  ancient  mother -land.    For  thence 
O'er  all  the  world  Eneas'  house  shall  rule  — 
He  and  his  children's  children  and  their  seed."  ^30 

Apollo  thus.    Loud  murmurs  of  delight 
Arise :  all  ask  at  once  what  is  this  land, 
To  which  Apollo  guides  our  wandering  feet, 
And  bids  us  to  return.    My  father  then. 
Weighing  the  legends  of  our  ancestors,  ^35 
Cries:  "  Hark,  ye  leaders  of  the  people,  learn 
What  'tis  ye  may  expect.    Jove's  island,  Crete, 
Lies  in  mid  sea  with  a  Mount  Ida  on't, 
A  hundred  goodly  cities,  and  a  soil 
Most  fertile.    'Tis  the  cradle  of  our  race. 
Thence  Teucer,  founder  of  our  line,  if  I 
Aright  recall  what  I  have  heard,  first  came 
Unto  the  shores  of  Troy,  and  chose  his  seat 
Of  empire  there.    Nor  then  did  Ilium  stand. 
Nor  Troy's  high  citadel.    Thence  Cybele, 
tSc  mother  of  the  gods,  who  came  and  dwelt 
Upon  Mount  Cybela ;  thence  too  her  priests. 
The  Corybants,  with  cymbals  made  of  brass  j 
Thence  too  the  name  of  Ida  to  her  groves. 


BOOK  III. 


77 


The  inviolable  mystery  of  her  rites, 

Iler  Hons  yoked  and  tamed  to  draw  her  car. 

Therefore  go  on,  and  where  the  gods  direct, 

There  let  us  tend,  placate  the  winds,  and  seek 

The  Cretan  realm.    Nor  long  the  course  :  if  Jove 

Be  kind,  the  third  day  anchors  us  in  Crete."  *5s 

Thus  spake  he,  and  due  sacrifices  made 

Before  the  shrines  —  a  bull  to  Neptune;  one, 

Thou  beautiful  Apollo,  unto  thee ; 

Black  sheep  to  Storm ;  to  the  fair  Zephyrs,  white. 

'Tis  rumored  that  Idomeneus  the  king, 
Banished  his  native  realm,  hath  gone  from  Crete,  — 
Its  shores  abandoned  by  our  foes,  their  homes 
Deserted,  and  their  towns  left  tenantless. 
We  leave  Ortygia's  port,  fly  o'er  the  sea. 
And  sweep  past  Naxos'  Bacchanalian  heights  ; 
Past  green  Donysa  and  Olearos^ 
Past  snow-white  Paros  and  the  Cyclades 
That  cluster  on  the  sea,  and  through  the  straits 
Made  narrow  by  so  many  isles.    Up  goes 
The  sailors'  cry,  the  rival  crews  astir  *70 
And  briskened  by  the  common  stimulus 
That  we  to  Crete  and  our  forefathers  go. 
The  wind  comes  up  astern,  and  follows  us, 
Till  last  we  reach  the  Cretans'  ancient  shores. 
There  eagerly  I  lay  foundation  walls  '75 
To  build  the  city  of  my  hope,  and  call 
It  Pergamos.    I  urge  the  men  —  that  name 
Delighting  them — to  nurse  their  hearths,  and  raise 
Defences  for  their  homes.    Already  now. 
On  the  dry  sands  the  boats  were  almost  beached, 


78 


THE  ^NEID. 


Our  youth  intent  on  marriage  and  the  farm, 
Myself  assigning  homes  and  making  laws, 
When  suddenly  a  wasting,  loathsome  plague 
Poisoned  the  air,  and  fell  on  limbs  of  men, 
On  trees  and  crops, — a  pestilential  year. 
They  part  with  life  so  dear  to  them,  or  drag 
Their  sickly  frames  about.    The  dog-star  now 
Hath  burned  the  sterile  fields  :  withers  the  grass : 
The  parching  crops  refuse  to  grow.    My  sire 
Urges  us  go  again,  back  o'er  the  sea,  ^90 
To  Apollo  and  Ortygia's  oracles. 
Beseech  the  favor  of  the  god,  and  learn 
What  surcease  to  our  weariness  he  puts  : 
Whence  'tis  his  bidding  we  shall  look  for  aid 
In  our  distress,  and  where  to  shape  our  course.  ^95 
'Twas  night.   Sleep  stilled  all  living  things  on  earth. 
And  as  I  lay  in  dreams,  before  my  eyes. 
Clear  in  a  flood  of  light,  that  from  the  moon 
At  full  poured  through  the  open  casements,  stood 
The  sacred  figures  of  the  gods  and  Troy's  ^oo 
Divinities  which  from  the  city's  flames 
I  had  brought  out  with  me.    'Twas  thus  they  spake. 
And  with  these  words  dispersed  my  fears :  "All  that 
Apollo  would  reveal  to  thee,  didst  thou 
Back  to  Ortygia  go,  he  tells  thee  here,  ^05 
Himself  the  message  sending  to  your  doors. 
Thine  arms  and  thee  we  follow :  Troy  burnt  low, 
We  sail  the  heaving  ocean,  thou  our  guide  : 
And  we  shall  also  raise  to  starry  fame 
Thy  generations  hence,  and  empire  give 
Unto  thy  city.    Lay  foundations  great 


BOOK  III. 


79 


For  future  greatness,  nor  give  o'er  the  toil 

Of  exile,  lengthen  as  it  may.    The  scene 

Must  shift.    Not  these  the  shores  Apollo  bade 

At  Delos  j  not  his  will  to  settle  Crete.  "5 

There  is  a  place  —  The  Grecians  call  its  name 

Hesperia  —  'tis  an  old  land,  stout  at  war, 

And  rich  its  soil.    The  Enotrians  tilled  it  once. 

But  now,  'tis  said  that  their  descendants  name 

It  Italy  —  some  chieftain's  name.    'Tis  there  "o 

Our  birth-place  is.    There  Dardanus  did  spring, 

There  too  lasius  our  progenitor, 

From  which  stock  came  our  race.    Up  then,  arise, 

And  to  thine  aged  father  gladly  tell 

The  truth  at  last !    Let  him  seek  Corythus  225 

And  Italy.    Jove  doth  deny  thee  Crete." 

Startled  by  such  a  vision,  and  to  hear 

The  voices  of  the  gods  —  it  was  not  sleep ; 

I  seemed  to  recognize  them  face  to  face. 

The  fillets  round  their  locks,  their  very  looks  —  230 

A  cold  sweat  pouring  out  from  every  limb, 

I  snatch  my  body  from  the  bed,  lift  up 

My  palms  and  voice  to  heaven,  and  on  the  hearth 

A  pure  libation  pour.    This  honor  paid, 

O'erjoyed  I  set  Anchises  next  at  rest,  *35 

And  tell  him  all  as  it  occurred.    He  sees 

At  once  the  double  ancestry,  the  two 

Progenitors,  and  how  the  ancient  names, 

Confused  in  later  times,  misguided  him. 

"O  son,"  he  cries,  "  o'erburdened  with  the  fate  *^ 

Of  Troy,  Cassandra  used  alone  foretell 

Of  fortunes  such  as  these.    I  n  n  ^  me,  now, 


8o 


THE  iENEID. 


She  said  that  such  were  fated  to  our  race, 

And  oft  she  named  Hesperia,  oft  she  spake 

Of  the  Italian  realm.    But  who  believed 

The  Trojans  e'er  would  go  to  Italy? 

Or  whom  did  then  Cassandra's  prophecies 

E'er  influence  ?    To  Phoebus  let  us  yield, 

And,  warned  by  him,  follow  a  better  course." 

So  spake  he.    Cheerfully  his  word  we  heed,  250 

Abandon  this  our  second  settlement, 

And,  leaving  there  a  few,  set  sail  and  sweep 

O'er  the  vast  ocean  in  our  wooden  shells. 

After  the  fleet  is  well  afloat,  nor  more 
The  land  is  seen,  naught  but  the  sea  and  sky,  *S5 
The  murky  rain-clouds  gather  overhead 
In  storm  and  darkness.    In  the  gloom  the  waves 
Grow  boisterous.    The  winds  incessantly 
Roll  up  the  sea,  its  mountain  surges  lift. 
Scattered  we  toss  upon  the  mighty  deep.  260 
iThe  day  goes  out  in  tempest,  and  the  night 
Washes  away  the  stars.    The  lightnings  flash. 
And  rip  the  clouds  apart.    Forced  from  our  course. 
We  wander  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 
Not  Palinurus  even  can  discern  265 
'Twixt  night  and  day  o'erhead,  nor  find  his  way 
Amid  the  billows.    Thus  the  ocean  o'er 
We  stray  three  days  all  darkened  into  one, 
Three  nights  without  a  star.    Not  till  the  fourth 
See  we  the  land  appear  at  length,  far  off  *7o 
The  mountains  looming  up  and  belching  smoke. 
Down  go  the  sails.    We  spring  upon  our  oars. 
No  time  is  lost :  the  sailors,  sharp  at  work, 


BOOK  III. 


81 


Whirl  up  the  spray  and  cut  the  azure  deep. 

Ashore,  from  shipwreck  saved,  the  Strophades  275 
First  welcome  me  —  called  Strophades  in  Greek  — 
Isles  in  the  great  Ionian  sea,  where  foul 
Celaeno  and  the  other  Harpies  dwell 
Since  Phineus'  house  was  shut  them  and  they  fled 
In  terror  from  their  late  abode.    Than  they 
There  is  no  viler  monster,  nor  doth  pest 
Or  visitation  of  the  gods  so  fell 
Emerge  above  the  current  of  the  Styx  — 
Birds  with  girls'  faces  and  a  loathsome  flux, 
Claw-hands,  and  e'er  a  hungry  pallid  look.  285 

Arriving  here,  we  enter  into  port. 
Lo  !  in  the  fields  we  see  contented  herds 
Of  oxen  feeding  here  and  there,  and  flocks 
Of  goats,  no  keeper  with  them,  pasturing  near. 
We  charge  them  with  our  spears,  and  call  the  gods,  *9o 
E'en  Jove  himself,  to  share  the  booty  ;  then 
Upon  the  circling  beach  we  tables  build, 
And  feast  on  dainty  meats.    But  frightfully 
And  sudden  from  the  mountains  swooping  down, 
The  Harpies  are  at  hand,  and  flap  their  wings  295 
With  deafening  roar.    They  snatch  away  the  food 
And  with  their  filthy  touch  foul  every  thing. 
While  through  the  sickening  stench  their  horrid  shrieks 
Arise.    Once  more,  within  a  deep  recess. 
Beneath  a  hollow  rock,  shut  all  about  300 
With  trees  and  thickest  shade,  we  spread  the  board 
And  at  the  altars  light  the  fires  anew. 
Once  more  from  every  quarter  of  the  sky. 
From  hidden  dens,  the  clamoring  crew  clutch  up 
6 


82 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  prey  with  crooked  claws,  and  with  their  mouths  3os 

Besmear  the  food.    Then  did  I  bid  the  men 

Take  arms,  and  battle  with  this  hideous  race. 

They  do  as  bid,  and  hide  their  swords  from  sight 

Within  the  grass,  and  lay  away  their  shields ; 

So  when  again  we  hear  them  flapping  down,  310 

The  trumpeter  Misenus  from  his  post 

Gives  signal,  and  the  men  attack,  and  wage 

A  fight  they  never  waged  before,  to  slay 

With  sword  these  loathsome  ocean-birds  :  yet  they 

Receive  no  blow  upon  their  wings,  nor  wounds  315 

Upon  their  flesh.    Gliding  in  rapid  flight 

Up  toward  the  stars,  they  leave  behind  the  food 

Half-eaten  amid  the  traces  of  their  filth. 

Only  Celaeno,  prophetess  of  woe, 

Sits  high  a  rock,  and  from  her  throat  croaks  this  :  320 

"Wage  ye  war  too,  sons  of  Laomedon, 

Who  first  our  oxen  kill,  our  cattle  maim. 

Then  drive  us,  harmless  Harpies,  from  our  homes  ? 

Hear,  then,  and  take  to  heart  these  words  of  mine. 

I,  greatest  of  the  furies,  tell  to  you  32s 

What  the  Omnipotent  to  Phoebus  told. 

And  Phoebus  unto  me.    To  Italy 

Ye  shape  your  course.    To  Italy  indeed, 

The  winds  so  bidden,  shall  ye  go,  and  ride 

Into  its  ports.    But  ye  shall  not  surround  330 

Your  destined  city  with  its  walls  until 

Starvation  grim,  vengeance  for  this  assault 

Ye  make  on  us,  shall  force  you  e'en  to  eat 

The  trenchers  that  your  teeth  shall  gnaw."   So  spake. 

Then  soared  aloft  and  flew  into  the  wood.  33s 


BOOK  III. 


83 


As  for  the  men,  their  very  blood  ran  cold 

With  sudden  fear.    Their  spirits  drooped  ;  nor  more 

With  arms,  but  now  with  prayers  and  vows,  for  peace 

They  bade  me  beg,  let  these  be  goddesses 

Or  only  hideous  and  loathsome  birds.  340 

Father  Anchises,  stretching  from  the  shore 
His  hands,  invokes  the  great  divinities, 
And  orders  fitting  sacrifices.  "Gods," 
He  cries,  "forbid  these  threats  !   Avert  such  fate, 
And  in  your  favor  keep  your  worshippers  !  "  34s 
Then  bids  he  tear  the  cable  from  the  beach. 
Let  out  and  loose  the  sheets. 

The  south  wind  strains 
The  sail.    Over  the  sparkling  tide  we  go 
Where'er  the  helmsman  and  the  breezes  guide. 
Midway  our  course  appear  Zacynthus'  groves,  350 
Dulichium,  Samos,  and  the  towering  cliffs 
Of  Neritos.    We  shun  Laertes'  realm, 
The  rocks  of  Ithaca,  and  curse  the  land 
Of  grim  Ulysses'  birth.    Soon  open  up 
Leucate's  cloudy  top  and,  sailors'  dread,  sss 
The  temple  of  Apollo.    Weary,  here 
We  land  and  shelter  'neath  the  little  town ; 
The  kedge  goes  o'er  the  bow :  the  sterns  are  beached. 

Thus  unexpectedly  at  length  we  land, 
Atone  to  Jove,  and  make  burnt  offerings. 
With  Trojan  games  we  celebrate  the  shores 
Of  Actium.    Here,  stripped  to  the  skin  and  slick 
With  oil,  the  men  indulge  their  native  sports, 
Glad  to  have  shunned  so  many  Grecian  towns 
And  made  their  flight  straight  through  the  midst  of 
foes.  365 


84 


THE  ^.NEID. 


Meantime  the  sun  rolls  round  the  whole  long  year, 
And  icy  winter  roughs  the  sea  with  storms. 
A  shield  of  hollow  brass,  which  Abas  great 
Once  wore,  I  nail  o'er-front  the  temple  gate, 
And  write  this  legend  of  its  meaning  there  :  370 
From  victor  Greeks  tEneas  won  these  arms. 
Then  do  I  bid  the  men  depart  the  port 
And  seat  them  on  the  thwarts.    In  rivalry 
They  lash  the  sea  and  sweep  across  the  tide. 
Anon  fade  Corfu's  airy  pinnacles.  375 
We  coast  Epirus'  shore,  make  Chaon's  port. 
And  reach  Buthrotum's  lofty  citadel. 
There  an  incredible  report  we  hear ; 
That  Helenus,  a  son  of  Priam,  reigns 
Throughout  these  Grecian  towns ;  that  Pyrrhus'  wife  380 
And  crown  are  his  —  Pyrrhus,  Achilles'  son; 
And  that  again  Andromache  is  wed 
Unto  a  husband  of  her  race.  Amazed 
I  stand,  my  heart  aglow  with  hot  desire 
To  speak  the  man  and  probe  so  strange  a  tale.  38s 
Up  from  the  port  I  go,  leaving  the  fleet 
And  strand.    Within  a  grove  outside  the  town. 
By  an  adopted  Simois'  stream,  it  chanced 
Just  then  Andromache  to  Hector's  dust 
Paid  solemn  banquet-rites  and  marks  of  grief,  390 
And  called  his  ghost  at  what  was  feigned  his  tomb 
Which,  with  its  double  altar,  she,  though  naught 
The  green  sod  hid,  had  hallowed  unto  him 
And  made  the  very  fountain  of  her  tears. 
Soon  as  she  saw  me  coming  and  beheld  395 
The  blazon  round  her  of  the  Trojan  arms, 


BOOK  III. 


85 


Bewildered  and  o'ercome  at  such  a  sight, 

Rigid  she  stood  and  steadfast  gazed ;  her  limbs 

Grew  cold ;  fainting  she  scarce  long  afterwards 

Could  speak :  "  Son  of  a  goddess,  dost  thou  come  400 

To  me  a  living  face,  true  messenger  ? 

Dost  live  ?    Or,  if  sweet  life  hath  fled,  where  is 

My  Hector  ? "    Thus  she  spake,  and  rained  a  flood 

Of  tears,  and  filled  the  whole  grove  with  her  sobs 

So  violent,  scarce  could  I  aught  respond  '*°s 

Or,  overwhelmed  myself,  open  my  mouth 

With  now  and  then  a  word :    "  Indeed  I  live, 

And  still  live  on  through  all  vicissitudes. 

Doubt  not ;  thou  see'st  me  still  alive.    But  ah ! 

What  lot  is  thine  robbed  of  so  great  a  lord  !  410 

What  hath  fate  brought  thee  worthy  thy  desert  ? 

Doth  the  Andromache  of  Hector  stoop 

To  Pyrrhus'  wife  ?  "    She  hung  her  head,  and  spake 

In  a  low  voice  :  "  Oh !  happiest  of  them  all 

Was  she,  king  Priam's  daughter,  doomed  to  death,  41s 

A  victim  at  Achilles'  grave  beneath 

Troy's  stately  walls !    Not  hers  to  bear  the  lot 

That  turned  upon  the  casting  of  a  die, 

Or,  captive,  touch  a  tyrant  master's  bed, 

While  I,  my  native  land  in  flames,  forth  dragged  420 

From  sea  to  sea,  bent  to  a  drudge,  have  borne 

The  contumely  of  Achilles'  race 

And  his  o'erbearing  son ;  who,  when  he  sought 

Hermione,  a  Spartan  wife,  gave  me 

A  slave  to  Helenus  himself  a  slave.  4*5 

Orestes,  wrought  to  fury  with  the  love 

He  passionately  bore  his  stolen  bride, 


86 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  mad  with  the  insanity  of  crime, 

Surprised  and  slew  the  tyrant  off  his  guard 

Before  his  native  altars.    Pyrrhus  dead,  430 

The  realm  in  part  to  Helenus  reverts 

Who  all  this  land  hath  now  Chaonia  named 

From  Trojan  Chaon's  name,  and  on  the  heights 

Hath  built  these  Trojan  towers  and  citadel. 

But  what  the  wind  or  fate  that  guided  thee  ?  43s 

What  god  hath  brought  thee  haply  to  our  shores? 

How  with  the  boy  Ascanius  ?    Still  doth  he 

The  hope  that  Troy  gave  thee  in  keeping,  live 

And  drink  the  air?.  Still  doth  the  little  one 

Miss  his  dead  mother's  care,  or  doth  his  sire  440 

yEneas,  doth  his  uncle  Hector  wake 

The  old-time  valor  and  the  heroic  soul  ? " 

While  thus,  all  sobs  and  powerless  tears,  she  spake, 
The  hero  Helenus,  king  Priam's  son. 
Came  from  the  town,  a  great  train  following  him.  44s 
He  knows  his  countrymen,  and  to  his  house 
Leads  them  o'erjoyed,  yet  weeps  at  every  word. 
As  I  advance,  I  recognize  'tis  Troy 
In  miniature  ;  its  citadel  like  Troy's  ; 
The  shallow  current  of  a  Xanthus  there. 
I  kiss  the  threshold  of  a  Scsean  gate ; 
My  Trojans  greet  a  city  of  their  own. 
The  king  receives  them  in  his  ample  courts : 
Midway  the  hall  they  pour  the  flowing  wine. 
And  healths  they  drink,  their  viands  served  on  gold.  45s 

A  day,  and  yet  another  day  goes  by. 
The  breezes  tempt  the  sails.    The  rising  wind 
The  canvas  swells.    Our  prophet-host  I  speak. 


BOOK  III. 


87 


And  question  thus :  "  Thou  augur  of  the  gods 

And  son  of  Troy  —  who  read'st  Apollo's  will,  460 

The  tripod  and  the  laurel  of  the  god, 

The  stars,  the  language  of  the  birds,  and  all 

Signs  of  the  rapid  wing  —  kind  auspices 

Have  shown  me  all  my  course ;  the  deities 

All  bid  me  go  to  Italy,  and  seek  46s 

That  land  of  rest.    Harpy  Celaeno  sang 

Alone  a  strange  and  horrid  note  of  woe, 

Threatening  fell  vengeance  and  the  loathsome  ghoul 

Of  famine.    Tell  me  thou  what  peril  first 

To  shun ;  what  course  to  follow,  so  that  I  470 

Such  dire  necessity  may  overcome." 

Then  Helenus,  a  bullock  duly  slain, 
Implores  the  favor  of  the  gods,  unbinds 
The  fillets  from  his  holy  head,  and  me 
Awed  by  the  ghostly  gloom  leads  hand  in  hand  47s 

y 

Into  thy  temple,  Phoebus.    There  the  priest, 
With  tongue  inspired  from  heaven,  doth  chant  these 
words : 

"  Son  of  a  goddess,  faith  sees  clear  that  thou 

Dost  o'er  the  ocean  go  to  better  things. 

The  King  of  gods  so  fate  allots,  and  sets  480 

The  order  of  events.    That  order  stands ! 

Yet  so  thou  safelier  cross  pacific  seas 

And  land  in  an  Italian  port,  I  will 

Of  many  prophecies  a  few  unfold. 

For  more  the  Fates  forbid  thee  know,  nor  wills  485 

Juno  that  Helenus  should  utter  more. 

"  And  first,  an  intricate  long  way  sets  far 
From  thee  the  Italy  thou  think'st  so  near, 


88 


THE  ^NEID. 


Whose  ports  thou  ignorantly  hastest  now 

To  come  to  anchor  in.    The  oar  must  bend  '♦9° 

'Gainst  the  Sicilian  waves;  thy  barks  must  face 

The  briny  Tuscan  sea,  the  infernal  lakes, 

And  Circe's  isle,  ere  in  the  promised  land 

Thou  canst  thy  city  found.    Mark  thou  my  words ; 

Hold  them  deep  founded  in  thy  memory.  495 

"  Beside  a  quiet  river's  flow,  beneath 
The  holm  trees  on  the  shore,  the  time  will  come 
When  thou,  a  care-worn  wanderer,  shalt  behold, 
At  rest  upon  the  ground,  a  huge  white  sow 
Reclining  with  a  litter,  newly  born,  500 
Of  thirty  white  pigs  at  her  teats.    That  place 
Shall  be  thy  city's  site,  the  sure  surcease 
Of  all  thy  toils.    Nor  shudder  at  the  thought 
That  thou  shalt  gnaw  the  trencher.    Fate  will  find 
A  way,  and  Phoebus  answer  to  thy  prayer.  505 
This  land,  this  trend  of  the  Italian  coast, 
Depart :  the  hostile  Greeks  inhabit  all 
Its  towns.   The  Locrians  here  have  made  their  homes. 
Cretan  Idomeneus  holds  under  arms 
The  Sallentinian  plains.    Here  too  is  snug 
Petilia,  close  defended  by  the  wall 
Of  Philoctetes,  Meliboea's  king. 
But  when  thy  fleet  from  o'er  the  sea  shall  come 
To  port  at  last,  and  thou  thy  vows  dost  pay 
At  altars  raised  upon  the  shore,  veil  then  s^s 
Thy  locks  with  purple,  lest  some  hostile  face. 
Appearing  mid  the  sacred  fires  that  burn 
In  honor  of  the  gods,  the  omens  mar. 
Keep  thou  thyself  this  sacred  custom ;  let 


BOOK  III. 


89 


Thy  followers  keep  it,  and  posterity  520 

Remain  e'er  faithful  to  this  pious  rite. 

Soon  as  the  wind  shall  bring  thee,  sailing  hence, 

To  the  Sicilian  shores,  and  full  in  view 

Open  Messina's  narrow  straits,  sheer  off 

To  port  and,  long  though  be  the  circuit,  take  525 

The  water  on  thy  left.    Upon  the  right 

Beware  the  sea  and  shore.    Of  old,  they  say, 

These  straits  were  violently  rent  apart, 

By  some  vast  shock  convulsed, — such  is  the  change 

Wrought  by  the  weary  lapse  of  centuries.  530 

Where  once  both  lands  were  one,  the  mighty  sea 

Poured  in  between,  and  with  its  deluge  tore 

The  Italian  side  from  Sicily,  and  flows 

A  narrow  channel  now  'twixt  fields  and  towns 

Disparted  by  its  banks.    Scylla  besets  S3s 

The  right ;  Charybdis,  merciless,  the  left. 

Thrice  to  the  bottom  of  her  maw  she  sucks 

Straight  down  the  giant  waves,  then  belches  them 

In  turn  again  into  the  air,  and  flings 

Their  spray  across  the  stars.    But  Scylla  lurks  540 

Prisoned  within  the  cavern  of  the  rock. 

Stretching  her  jaws  to  drag  the  mariner 

Upon  the  reefs,  —  her  face  a  human  face, 

A  virgin  to  her  groin  with  shapely  breasts. 

But,  after  that,  a  monster  of  the  sea  S4S 

Of  size  immense,  with  tails  of  dolphins  joined 

To  belly  of  the  wolf.    Better  delay. 

And  turn  Pachynus,  Sicily's  extreme ; 

Better  sail  round,  however  long  the  voyage. 

Than  once  the  hideous  shape  of  Scylla  see  sso 


90 


THE  ^NEID. 


In  that  deep-yawning  cavern  where  the  rocks 

Re-echo  to  her  murky  sea-dogs'  howl ! 

Besides,  if  Helenus  hath  any  sense, 

If  thou  hast  faith  in  his  prophetic  power, 

Or  if  Apollo  fills  his  mind  with  truth,  sss 

One  thing  I  tell  thee,  goddess'  son,  one  thing 

Before  all  else,  and  still  the  warning  urge. 

Again  and  yet  again  repeating  it :  — 

With  prayers  entreat  thou  first  great  Juno's  grace  ; 

To  Juno  pay  thy  vows  with  all  thy  soul ;  560 

O'ercome  with  suppliant  gifts  that  mighty  queen . 

Triumphant  then,  shalt  thou  leave  Sicily 

And  land  upon  the  Italian  shore  at  last ! 

Departing  hence,  when  thou  to  Cumae  com'st. 

Its  holy  lakes,  Avernus'  whispering  woods,  565 

Thou  the  wild  prophetess  shalt  see  who  sings 

In  rocky  caves  the  mysteries  of  fate. 

And  writes  on  leaves  her  oracles.  Whate'er 

The  rede  the  virgin  writes  upon  the  leaves. 

She  numbers  and  in  order  ranges  them,  570 

Then  lays  them  in  seclusion  in  the  cave. 

There  they  remain  unmoved,  nor  lose  their  place. 

Yet  should,  on  turn  of  hinge,  the  light  wind  lift 

Or  through  the  open  door  disorder  them, 

Ne'er  more  cares  she  to  catch  them  as  they  float  575 

Beneath  the  rocky  arch,  or  set  them  back. 

Or  re-unite  them  verse  to  verse  again. 

Fools  go  away  and  scorn  the  Sibyl's  shrine ; 

But  count  thou  time  worth  naught,  tho'  comrades  chide, 

Or  seaward  loud  the  voyage  thy  canvas  call,  580 

Or  fair  the  breeze  that  on  thy  bidding  waits. 


BOOK  III. 


91 


Nay,  seek  the  prophetess ;  with  prayers  entreat 

That  she  herself  the  oracles  make  clear 

And  freely  unrestrain  her  lips  and  speak. 

The  tribes  of  Italy,  the  wars  to  be,  58s 

Each  hardship,  how  to  bear  or  shun  it  best  — 

All  will  she  picture  unto  thee,  and  give, 

Conciliated  thus,  a  happy  voyage. 

Thus  far  my  voice  may  warn  thee.    Go,  farewell, 

And  by  thy  deeds  restore  the  might  of  Troy."  590 

These  friendly  words  the  prophet  speaks,  then  bids 
To  load  our  barks  with  gifts  massive  with  gold 
Or  carved  in  ivory,  and  stows  aboard 
Much  weight  of  silver  ware,  Dodona  pots, 
Mail  wrought  in  triple  ply  and  hooked  with  gold,  S9S 
A  helmet's  glittering  cone  and  waving  plume, 
The  armor  once  of  Neoptolemus. 
My  father,  too,  especial  gifts  he  gives, 
And  adds  us  horses,  guides  and  oars,  and  then 
For  every  man  provides  a  suit  of  arms.  ^ 

Meantime  Anchises  bids  the  fleet  hoist  sail 
So  naught  delay  the  wind  that  rises  fair. 
Him  speaks  Apollo's  seer  with  deep  respect : 
"  Anchises,  honored  with  proud  Venus'  bed. 
Loved  of  the  gods,  twice  rescued  from  the  sack  ^05 
Of  Troy,  lo  !  thine  the  land  of  Italy ; 
There  wing  thy  flight.    But  farther  o'er  the  sea 
Must  thou  go  on.    That  Italy  is  far 
To  which  Apollo  opens  up  the  way. 
Farewell,"  he  cries,  "O  happy  in  a  son  610 
That  honors  thee !  nor  must  my  full  heart  more, 
Nor  I  with  words  delay  the  impatient  wind." 


92 


THE  iENEID. 


Nor  less  Andromache,  sad  that  we  part 

To  meet  no  more,  brings  robes  enwrought  with  threads 

Of  gold,  and  for  Ascanius  brings  a  scarf 

Of  Phrygian  make, —  worthy  the  honor  he. 

She  loads  him  down  with  presents  from  her  loom, 

And  speaks  him  thus :  "  Take  also  these,  my  boy, 

My  handiwork  :  and  let  them  testify 

How  lasting  is  the  love  of  Hector's  wife 

Andromache.    Take  them,  last  souvenirs  they 

Of  these  thy  friends.    O  thou  sole  image  left 

Of  my  Astyanax !  'twas  so  he  raised 

His  eyes,  his  hands,  his  lips.    By  this  would  he, 

His  years  the  same,  be  ripening  like  thyself." 

I  speak,  tears  bursting  as  I  turn  to  go  : 
"  Sweet  be  your  lives,  whose  destiny  is  reached ! 
From  toil  to  toil  our  fortune  calls ;  your  rest 
Is  sure.    No  weary  seas  for  you  to  plough  ! 
Not  yours  to  seek  the  still  receding  fields  ^30 
Of  Italy  1    Here  ye  the  likeness  see, 
Your  own  hands'  work,  of  Xanthus  and  of  Troy ;  — 
Fairer  their  hopes,  I  trust,  and  ne'er  to  cross 
The  malice  of  the  Greeks.    If  once  I  reach 
The  Tiber  and  the  lands  that  border  it,  ^35 
And  see  my  people's  destined  walls  arise, 
Hereafter  will  we  make  our  cities  kin. 
Our  nations  neighbors,  in  Epirus  ye. 
And  we  in  Italy,  with  Dardanus 
Our  common  founder,  ours  a  common  fate, 
Our  hearts  still  Trojan  each  and  both.    Let  this 
Forever  be  the  charge  our  sons  shall  keep." 

On  o'er  the  waves  close  by  Ceraunia's  strand, 


Ancient  Italy. 
J.  M.  W.  Turner. 


BOOK  III. 


93 


Hugging  the  shore  we  go,  our  way  where'er 

Is  shortest  cut  by  sea  to  Italy. 

Down  falls  the  sun ;  the  dusky  mountains  gloom  ; 

Beside  the  water's  edge  we  lay  us  down 

Upon  the  bosom  of  the  grateful  earth. 

Each  with  his  oar,  upon  the  dry  sea  sand 

We  rest  our  bodies  here  and  there,  while  sleep  ^so 

Bedews  our  weary  limbs.    Yet  scarce  the  night. 

Chased  by  the  hours,  mid-heaven  doth  climb,  when  up 

Springs  wary  Palinurus  from  his  bed, 

Sniffs  at  the  wind,  and  leans  his  ear  to  catch 

Its  breath.   He  notes  each  star  that  trembles  down  ^ss 

The  silent  sky,  Arcturus,  the  Two  Bears, 

The  rainy  Hyades,  takes  a  good  look 

Next  at  Orion  with  his  golden  sword, 

And  finding  all  is  calm,  the  sky  serene, 

Blows  from  the  stern  a  ringing  bugle-call.  ^ 

We  strike  our  camp,  pull  out  to  sea,  and  spread 

Our  sails  like  wings. 

Scarce  fled  the  stars  or  blushed 
The  dawn,  when  we  beheld  the  hazy  line 
Of  distant  hills,  low-lying  Italy.  ^^s 
Achates  first  cries,  "  Italy!  "  The  men 
With  glad  huzza  greet  Italy.    With  flowers 
Father  Anchises  wreathes  a  mighty  cup, 
Fills  it  with  wine,  and  standing  high  astern 
Invokes  the  gods  :  "Ye  gods,  sovereigns  o'er  sea 
And  land  and  sky,  let  the  wind  blow  to  speed 
Our  way,  and  breathe  ye  kindly  on  our  voyage ! " 

Freshens  the  grateful  breeze,  still  nearer  lifts 
The  port,  and  Pallas'  temple  looms  aloft. 


94 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  sailors  reef  the  sails,  and  turn  the  prows  ^7S 

To  shore.    The  harbor,  curving  like  a  bow 

To  hold  the  tide  inflowing  from  the  east, 

The  salt  spray  dashing  'gainst  its  rocky  sides. 

Itself  lies  out  of  sight.    The  towering  cliffs 

Send  out  their  spurs  like  arms  on  either  hand  :  ^ 

The  temple  seems  receding  from  the  shore. 

I  note  the  earliest  omen  —  in  the  fields 

Four  horses  pasturing  and  at  large,  all  white 

As  snow.    Father  Anchises  cries  :  "  O  land 

That  greetest  us,  thou  giv'st  the  greet  of  war !  ^85 

Equipped  for  war  these  steeds :  this  herd  means  war. 

And  yet  these  horses  have  been  wont  to  drag 

The  car,  and  bear  the  unwarlike  rein  and  yoke : 

In  that  is  hope  of  peace."    Then  do  we  pray 

Minerva's  sacred  grace,  who  loves  the  clash  690 

Of  arms,  whose  temple  is  the  first  to  greet 

Our  glad  approach.    Before  her  shrines  we  veil 

Our  heads  with  Phrygian  scarfs.    Remembering  too 

The  cautions  Helenus  most  urged,  we  burn 

To  Argive  Juno  victims  as  he  bade.  ^95 

No  time  to  lose.    Our  vows  discharged  aright, 
Forthwith  we  square  our  yards  about,  and  fly 
These  haunts  of  Greeks,  these  fields  we  dare  not  trust. 

Next  shows  Tarentum's  bay,  where  still  is  fresh 
The  fame  of  Hercules.    Just  opposite,  700 
The  goddess  Juno's  temple  heaves  in  sight. 
And  Caulon's  peaks  and  Scylacseum's  coast  . 
Which  sailors  dread.    Out  of  the  sea  in  front, 
The  top  of  Etna  looms  in  Sicily. 
We  hear  the  sea's  deep  thunder,  and  the  waves  70s 


BOOK  III. 


95 


'  That  beat  against  the  rocks,  the  surf  that  breaks 
And  roars  upon  the  shore.    The  shoals  boil  up : 
The  sand  is  mingled  with  the  surging  tide. 
Father  Anchises  cries  :  "  Too  late  !  Behold 
Charybdis  !   These  the  rocks,  the  fearful  reefs  710 
That  Helenus  foretold  !    Quick,  men,  lay  hold  ! 
Spring  to  your  oars  and  all  together  pull ! 

Nor  fail  they  at  the  bidding ;  hard  aport 
Quick  Palinurus  puts  his  shivering  bow. 
The  whole  fleet  strains  to  port  with  oar  and  sail.  715 
Upon  the  billows'  top  to  heaven  we  toss. 
Then  instantly,  down  with  the  tumbling  waves. 
Into  the  very  depths  of  hell  we  go. 
Thrice  echo  back  the  caverns  of  the  rock, 
And  thrice  we  see  the  foam  dash  up,  the  stars  720 
Bedewed.    Meantime  together  with  the  sun 
The  wind  goes  down  and  leaves  us  spent.    We  drift, 
Our  reckoning  lost,  upon  the  Cyclops'  coast. 

'Tis  a  deep  port,  unruffled  by  the  winds, 
Though  Etna  rumbles  near  in  thunder  tones,  725 
Belching  aloft  at  intervals  black  clouds 
Of  whirling  pitchy  smoke  and  cinder  showers. 
And  shooting  balls  of  fire  that  lick  the  stars. 
It  ructs  convulsively  and  heaves  up  rocks, 
The  wrenched  volcano's  bowels,  while  the  air  730 
Glooms  ever  with  the  hissing  molten  hail, 
And  from  its  very  depths  the  mountain  boils. 
The  body  of  Enceladus,  so  goes 
The  tale,  half  blasted  by  the  thunderbolt. 
Lies  'neath  the  mass,  and  through  the  rifted  flues  735 
Of  Etna,  piled  above  him,  breathes  up  fire. 


96 


THE  .ENEID. 


Oft  as  he  turns  to  rest  his  wearied  side, 
All  Sicily  seems  quaking  with  the  shock, 
And  the  whole  heaven  is  canopied  with  smoke. 
Through  all  that  night,  camped  in  the  woods,  its 
scenes  ''^p 
Of  terror  we  endure,  nor  can  we  see 
What  'tis  creates  the  din.    Shine  not  the  stars, 
Nor  glows  the  zenith  with  its  starry  mist. 
Clouds  flit  across  the  lowering  sky ;  the  dead 
Of  midnight  darkness  sepulchres  the  moon.  745 

And  now  the  morrow  breaks  the  East,  and  Dawn 
Unwraps  the  misty  shadows  from  the  sky, 
When  on  a  sudden  from  the  woods  there  runs. 
All  worn  to  skin  and  bone,  in  wretched  rags, 
An  odd  strange  figure  of  a  man,  his  hands  75° 
Beseechingly  outstretching  towards  the  shore. 
We  stare  at  him,  his  abject  filth,  his  beard 
Grown  rank,  his  mantle  pinned  with  thorns,  but  Greek 
All  else,  as  erst  he  bore  his  country's  arms 
When  sent  to  battle  Troy.    But  when  he  sees  75s 
The  Trojan  dress  and  Trojan  arms,  though  yet 
Afar,  in  terror  at  the  sight  he  halts 
And  for  a  moment  turns;  then  headlong  down. 
With  tears  and  prayers,  he  rushes  to  the  shore : 
"  By  all  the  stars,  by  all  the  gods,  by  this  760 
Bright  breath  of  heaven  I  beg !  oh,  rescue  me, 
Ye  men  of  Troy !  bear  me  where'er  ye  will ! 
'Tis  all  I  ask.    I  know  that  I  am  one 
That  manned  the  Grecian  fleet,  nay,  I  confess, 
Waged  war  against  the  guardian  gods  of  Troy.  765 
For  this,  if  ye  esteem  my  crime  so  great, 


BOOK  III. 


97 


Then  toss  me  to  the  waves,  and  let  me  drown 

In  the  deep  sea.    If  die  I  must,  I  long 

To  die  by  human  hands."    He  spake,  and  clasped 

My  knees  and,  writhing,  still  kept  clinging  close.  770 

We  bid  him  tell  us  who  he  is,  what  blood 

He  sprang  from,  and  confess  what  fortune  'tis 

That  drove  him  there.    Father  Anchises,  too. 

Unhesitating  gives  the  man  his  hand. 

And  calms  his  fears  with  this  prompt  courtesy.  77S 

And  he,  his  terror  off  at  last,  speaks  thus : 

"My  native  land  is  Ithaca;  my  name 
Is  Achemenides.    I  came  to  Troy, 
By  my  poor  father  Adamastus  sent  — 
Would  that  our  lot  had  never  changed  !  — beneath  780 
The  standard  of  ill-starred  Ulysses.  Here, 
Within  the  Cyclops'  cavern  vast,  my  mates 
Forgot  and  left  me,  while  in  terror  they 
Its  savage  portal  fled.    The  cave  is  huge. 
Reeking  with  gore  and  shreds  of  bloody  flesh,  785 
And  full  of  gloom  within.    The  Cyclops  towers 
So  tall  he  hits  the  stars  —  Ye  gods  avert 
From  earth  so  fell  a  pest!  — and  none  dare  speak 
Or  look  on  him.    He  feeds  upon  the  flesh 
Of  wretched  victims  and  their  curdling  blood.  790 
I  saw  him,  stretched  midway  his  cavern,  break 
Upon  a  rock  bodies  of  two  of  ours 
Whom  he  had  caught  in  his  huge  hand,  the  floor 
Bedaubed  and  swimming  in  their  blood.   Their  limbs. 
Spurting  with  crimson  gore,  I  saw  him  grind,  79S 
The  flesh  yet  warm  and  quivering  in  his  teeth. 
Not  unavenged !    Ulysses  bore  it  not, 

7 


98 


THE  iENEID. 


Nor  in  so  great  a  strait  forgot  his  craft. 

For  when  the  giant,  stuffed  with  food,  and  dead 

With  wine,  lay  back  his  nodding  head  and  stretched 

Along  the  cave  his  monstrous  frame  and  slept, 

And  blood  and  morsels  soaked  in  blood  and  wine 

Did  drool,  the  favor  of  the  gods  we  prayed, 

Assigned  our  posts,  engirt  him  all  at  once. 

And  with  a  spear-point- bored  the  monstrous  eye 

That  by  itself,  big  as  a  Grecian  shield 

Or  Phoebus'  orb,  hid  'neath  his  shaggy  brow,  — 

Glad  to  avenge  our  comrades'  death  at  last. 

But  fly,  ye  wretches,  fly,  and  quick  tear  up 

Your  cable  from  the  shore ;  for  such  and  great 

As  is  this  Polyphemus  with  his  herds 

In  caverns  kept  to  give  him  milk  and  wool, 

A  hundred  other  monster  Cyclops  dwell 

Together  on  these  sea-worn  shores,  and  stray 

Upon  the  mountain  tops.    Now  doth  the  moon 

The  third  time  fill  her  horn  with  light,  while  I 

Drag  out  my  life  amid  the  woods  in  dens 

And  the  abandoned  haunts  of  savage  beasts. 

Watching  the  Cyclops  from  the  tops  of  rocks. 

Trembling  at  every  sound  of  voice  or  foot.  ^^o 

I  glean  from  shrubs  berries  and  cornel  stones  — 

Scant  fare  —  and  feed  on  brakes  whose  roots  I  pull. 

Forever  on  the  watch,  soon  as  I  saw 

Your  fleet  approach  the  shore,  I  made  for  it 

Content,  whence'er  it  came,  whome'er  it  brought, 

So  I  escape  so  horrible  a  race. 

Better  ye  put  my  life  to  any  death !  " 

Scarce  did  he  speak,  when  on  the  heights  we  saw 


BOOK  III. 


99 


The  shepherd  Polyphemus'  mighty  bulk 

There  stalking  mid  his  flocks,  groping  to  find 

Familiar  land  marks  to  the  shore,  a  huge 

Terrific  shapeless  monster,  with  his  eye 

Torn  from  its  socket,  while  a  pine-tree  trunk 

Did  guide  his  hand  and  make  his  footing  sure. 

His  woolly  sheep  about  him  fiocked,  sole  joy  ^35 

He  had  or  solace  for  his  pain.    When  once 

He  touched  the  deeper  tide  and  stood  well  out 

At  sea,  he  washed  away  with  it  the  blood 

That  flowed  from  his  digged  eye,  gnashing  his  teeth 

And  bellowing.    Now  through  mid  ocean  walks, 

Nor  yet  the  water  strikes  his  towering  sides. 

In  terror  we  make  haste  to  fly  afar ; 

We  take  the  honest  suppliant  quick  on  board ; 

The  cable  noiselessly  we  cut,  and  bent 

Well  forward,  sweep  the  sea  with  eager  oars.  ^4S 

He  hears,  and  turns  his  footsteps  to  the  sound. 

But  when  he  cannot  reach  us  with  his  hand. 

Nor  measure  depth  with  the  Ionian  sea. 

He  lifts  a  mighty  roar  that  makes  the  deep 

And  all  its  billows  tremble,  while  the  land  ^50 

Of  Italy  is  startled  to  its  midst. 

And  Etna's  arching  caverns  echo  back. 

Then  from  the  woods  and  mountain  heights  aroused, 

The  race  of  Cyclops  rush  upon  the  beach 

And  throng  the  shore.  The  Etnean  brothers  there  ^ss 

We  see,  one  glaring  eye  'neath  each  wild  front, 

A  terrible,  grim  group,  but  grouped  in  vain. 

Their  tall  heads  reaching  to  the  very  clouds. 

With  towering  crests  they  stand,  like  oaks  that  top 


lOO 


THE  .ENEID. 


The  air,  or  the  cone-bearing  cypresses,  860 

Jove's  lofty  forest  or  Diana's  grove. 

The  prick  of  terror  spurs  us  quick  let  go 

The  sheets  and  crowd  all  sail,  content  though  blows 

Whatever  wind  may  list    And  yet  the  charge 

Of  Helenus  gave  warning  not  to  steer  865 

'Twixt  Scylla  and  Charybdis — each  alike 

A  hair's  breadth  'scape  from  death.   I  give  command 

To  go  about,  when  lo !  the  wind  shifts  north, 

As  if  the  gods  had  sent  it,  blowing  off 

Pelorus'  point.    We  pass  Pantagia's  mouth 

Of  living  rock,  the  bay  of  Megara, 

And  lowly  Thapsus.  Achemenides, 

Ill-starred  Ulysses'  man,  points  out  all  these. 

The  shore  retracing  where  he  journeyed  late. 

Across  the  bay  of  Syracuse,  straight  off  ^75 
Plemmyrium's  sea-beat  shore,  there  lies  an  isle : 
The  ancients  called  its  name  Ortygia  once. 
The  story  goes  that  the  Alpheus  here  — 
A  river  that  in  Elis  runs  — hath  wrought 
A  secret  channel  'neath  the  sea,  and  now 
Through  thy  mouth,  fount  of  Arethusa,  blends 
With  the  Sicilian  springs.    As  we  were  bid, 
We  pray  the  great  gods  of  the  place,  then  coast 
The  fertile  soil  Helorus  irrigates. 
Still  on,  we  pass  Pachynus'  lofty  cliffs  ^85 
And  beetling  crags.    Far  Camarina  shows. 
Which  fate  forbade  to  drain,  and  Gela's  fields. 
And  outstretched  Gela  —  for  the  river  named. 
Then  towering  Agrigentum  lifts  aloft 
Her  massive  walls,  once  famed  for  thorough-breds.  ^ 


BOOK  III. 


lOI 


Fair  through  thy  palms  the  winds,  Selinus,  blow ; 
I  leave  thee  far  behind,  and  skim  the  shoals 
Of  Lilybeum,  dire  with  lurking  rocks. 
Anon  I  reach  the  port  of  Drepanum  — 
A  shore  forever  hence  with  grief  allied  !  895 
Alas  !  beat  by  so  many  ocean  storms, 
I  lose  my  father,  lose  Anchises  here 
Who  every  care  and  toil  had  lightened.    Ah ! 
Dear  father,  from  so  many  dangers  saved 
In  vain,  since  thou  did'st  here  abandon  me !  900 
Not  this  did  Helenus  the  seer  foretell. 
When  he  prepared  me  for  so  many  risks, 
Nor  e'en  the  fierce  Celaeno.    This  the  grief 
That  goes  beyond  all  else !    This  the  extent 
Of  our  long  journeyings.    Departing  thence,  90s 
Some  god  hath  hither  driven  me  on  thy  shores. 

Father  ^neas  thus,  all  ears  intent, 
Rehearsed  the  gods'  decrees,  his  own  career : 
Silent  at  last  he  rested  at  the  close. 


FOURTH  BOOK, 


D  UT  not  the  queen :  shot  to  the  heart  with  love, 
-■-^  She  nurses  in  her  veins  the  shaft  that  wounds, 
Consuming  with  the  lire  she  would  conceal. 
The  hero's  great  nobilit}-  of  soul, 
The  many  honors  of  his  race,  his  look,  s 
His  words  hang  quivering  in  her  wounded  breast. 
Nor  will  her  love  let  slumber  to  her  limbs. 

The  morrow's  sunlight  streamed  the  earth,  and  Dawn 
Had  swept  the  misty  shadows  from  the  sky, 
When  thus  the  unhappy  queen  her  sister  spake.  ^° 
Whose  heart  was  one  with  hers  :    "  What  all  these 
dreams. 

Anna,  my  sister,  that  still  o'er  my  sleep 

In  terror  hang  ?    Who  is  this  stranger  guest, 

That  on  our  shores  alights  ?    His  face  so  brave, 

And  he  tlie  soul  of  valor  and  of  war : 

I  feel,  nor  false  the  instinct,  his  descent 

Is  from  the  gods.    The  coward  'tis,  that  shows 

The  base-born  soul !    Ah  me !  what  risks  he  ran, 

What  tugs  of  war  he  sang !    Were  not  my  mind 

Unalterably  set,  or  would  I  e'er 

Go  'neath  the  marriage  yoke  with  any  one 

Since  death  hath  cheated  me  of  my  first  love, 

Did  I  not  shrink  from  bridal  bed  and  torch, 

To  him,  but  only  him,  I  might  perhaps 

Be  weak  enough  to  yield.    For,  I  confess,  25 


BOOK  IV. 


Since,  Anna,  my  poor  lord  Sichaeus  died. 

And  our  home  gods  were  stained  with  brother's  blood, 

This  man  alone  hath  moved  my  soul  and  stirred 

My  lulling  heart.    I  feel  the  quickening  thrill 

Of  passions  that  have  slumbered  long.    But  may  30 

The  yawning  earth  envelop  me,  may  now 

The  Almighty  King  me  with  his  thunder  hurl 

Below  the  shades,  the  ghastly  shades  of  hell 

And  endless  night,  ere  I  am  false  to  thee, 

O  Constancy,  or  break  thy  bonds !    He  who  3s 

First  made  me  one  with  him,  took  all  my  heart 

Away,  and  he  shall  keep  it  for  his  own 

And  guard  it  in  the  grave."    So  did  she  speak, 

And  filled  her  bosom  with  outgushing  tears. 

Anna  replies  :  "  O  sister,  dearer  far  40 
Than  life,  wilt  thou  forever  waste  thy  youth, 
Heart-broken  and  alone  ?    Shalt  thou  not  know 
Sweet  babes  nor  love's  caresses  ?    Think'st  the  dead, 
The  spirit  laid,  the  ashes  buried,  care  ? 
What  if  they  moved  not  thy  reluctant  heart,  « 
Who  came  erewhile  to  woo  in  Libya  here 
Or  Tyre  —  larbas  spurned,  and  other  chiefs 
Of  Afric's  rich,  triumphant  soil  ?    Wilt  thou 
With  love  in  thine  own  heart  contend }    Or  dost 
Forget  whose  lands  thou  borderest  on,  here  hedged  50 
By  the  Gaetulian  towns,  a  race  in  war 
Invincible,  by  the  Numidian  hordes 
Who  ride  without  a  rein,  by  Syrtis'  waste,— 
And  there  by  regions  desolate  with  drouth. 
And  by  the  Barcans  raiding  everywhere  ?  ss 
Why  need  I  speak  of  wars  that  lower  from  Tyre, 


I04 


THE  ^NEID. 


Thy  brother's  threats  ?    Meseems  indeed  it  were 
The  blessing  of  the  gods  and  Juno's  grace 
That  hither  blew  the  Trojan  fleet.    With  such 
A  man  thy  lord,  ah!  sister, what  a  town  60 
Were  this !    What  empire  thence  would  spring !  how 
high 

The  glory  of  the  Punic  realm  would  rise, 

Unto  the  arms  of  Troy  allied  !    Do  thou 

But  beg  the  favor  of  the  gods,  due  rites 

Of  adoration  pay,  and  bid  him  bide. 

Then  link  together  causes  of  delay 

Till  Winter  and  Orion's  tempests  howl 

Above  the  sea  and  rock  his  boats,  nor  e'er 

Grows  clear  the  sky."    With  words  like  these  she  fires 

A  soul  already  longing,  thrills  with  hope  70 

The  wavering  heart,  and  breaks  down  all  reserve. 

At  once  they  seek  the  temple,  where  they  make 
Their  peace  before  the  altar,  and  select 
And  sacrifices  slay  of  full  grown  sheep 
To  Ceres  who  established  marriage  laws,  75 
To  Phoebus,  Bacchus,  but  to  Juno  most 
Who  doth  delight  to  couple  man  and  wife. 
Fair  Dido  holds  in  her  right  hand  the  bowl. 
And  pours  it  'twixt  the  fleecy  victim's  horns. 
And  there  she  walks  before  the  dripping  shrines  ^ 
And  statues  of  the  gods,  exhausts  the  day 
In  sacrifice  and,  eager  bending  while 
They  open  her  the  briskets  of  the  sheep, 
Studies  the  quivering  parts.    Alas  how  poor 
The  guess  of  conjurers  !    What  rite  or  shrine  *5 
Love's  fever  calms  !    Its  subtle  fire  consumes 


BOOK  IV. 


The  marrow  of  her  bones,  and  her  torn  heart 

Bleeds  silently.    Poor  Dido  frets,  and  strays 

Beside  herself  throughout  the  town.    So  hath, 

In  Cretan  groves,  some  sportsman,  hot  in  chase, 

At  random  shot  too  venturesome  a  doe. 

And  left  the  steel  still  quivering  in  the  wound. 

Not  knowing  that  he  hit :  she  takes  to  flight 

And  roves  the  thickets  and  the  woods  of  Crete, 

But  to  her  side  the  fatal  arrow  clings.  95 

Now  through  the  town,  ^Eneas  at  her  side, 
She  points  him  out  what  Tyre's  resources  are. 
And  what  the  city  she  prepares  to  build ; 
Begins  to  speak,  then  stammers  halfway  through ; 
And  now,  at  fall  of  day,  longs  to  renew 
The  pleasures  of  the  yester-eve  once  more  j 
Is  wild,  and  begs  to  hear  a  second  time 
The  Trojans'  perils,  while  she  hangs  again 
Upon  his  lips,  as  he  the  story  tells. 
Then  when  they  part,  and  when  the  moon  in  turn  '^s 
Grows  dim  and  pales  its  light,  and  fainting  stars 
To  slumber  soothe,  alone  she  languishes 
Through  tlie  empty  hall,  and  falls  upon  the  couch 
Where  he  did  lie  and,  though  apart,  yet  there 
She  hears  and  sees  him  face  to  face.    Again,  "° 
Won  by  his  likeness  to  his  sire  she  hugs 
Ascanius  close,  if  haply  she  may  cheat 
The  frenzy  of  her  love.    The  abandoned  towers 
No  longer  rise,  no  more  the  people  drill 
In  exercise  of  arms,  or  lay  the  base  "S 
Of  gates  or  fortresses  to  guard  the  town : 
A.t  stand-still  hang  the  works,  the  unfinished  walls 


io6 


THE  iENEID. 


That  threat  to  fall,  the  stagings  high  in  air. 

The  moment  Juno,  Jove's  belovbd  wife, 
Sees  the  queen  forced  to  such  a  passion  pitch, 
Blind  to  the  peril  of  her  own  fair  name, 
She  makes  at  Venus  thus :    "  Thou  and  thy  brat 
Will  truly  reap  rare  praise,  a  noble  spoil, 
A  high  and  honorable  name,  if  fall 
Into  the  snare  of  two  great  gods  but  one 
Poor  woman.    But  I  scent  a  deeper  plot; 
Thou  fear'st  our  city's  growth,  and  hold'st  in  dread 
The  commonwealth  of  stately  Carthage.  Nay, 
Why  not  some  truce  to  this  ?  or  wherefore  now 
Such  rivalries  }    What  better  than  to  make  '3o 
Eternal  peace,  and  wed  them  in  a  league  ? 
Thou  hast  thy  wish :    Dido  is  mad  with  love 
And  sucks  its  poison  to  her  very  bones. 
Lead  we  with  common  zeal  one  common  race ! 
So  let  her  wed  her  to  a  Trojan  lord,  '35 
Her  Tyrian  dowry  to  thy  hand  commit !  " 

But  Venus  saw  the  craft  beneath  the  word, 
That  would  divert  to  Libya's  shores  the  realm 
That  was  to  be  in  Italy,  and  thus 
Thrust  back  :    "  What  folly  to  deny  such  truth?  ho 
Or  who  could  wish  to  cross  the  sword  with  thee 
I  would  that  fortune  brought  the  thing  you  plan ; 
But  I  am  puzzled  how  to  take  the  fates  — 
Whether  Jove  wills  one  town  to  them  from  Tyre, 
To  them  from  Troy  another,  or  prefers 
To  mix  the  races  and  confederate  them. 
His  wife,  thou  need'st  but  ask  to  learpi  his  will. 
Do  thou  lead  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee ! " 


Eneas  at  the  Court  of  Dido, 

p.  Guerin. 


BOOK  IV. 


Then  royal  Juno  spake  :    "Be  that  my  task. 
And  now  in  few  words  hear  how  what  we  want 
May  come  about.    Soon  as  to-morrow's  sun 
Uplifts  its  earliest  beam,  and  with  its  rays 
Unwraps  the  shadowed  world,  ^neas  means, 
Infatuated  Dido  at  his  side. 

To  go  a-hunting  in  the  woods.    On  them,  ^ss 

When  hot  the  chase,  the  thickets  full  of  snares, 

I  '11  send  a  tempest,  black  as  night  with  rain 

And  hail,  and  wake  all  heaven  with  thunder-roar. 

The  band  will  scatter,  buried  in  the  gloom 

Of  night.    But  Dido  and  the  Trojan  chief 

To  the  same  cave  alike  shall  find  their  way. 

I  will  be  there  and,  if  thou  pledgest  me 

Thy  sure  assent,  will  tie  the  marriage  knot 

Secure  and  make  her  his.    And  that  shall  be 

Their  wedding  fete."    With  no  dissenting  word,  ^^s 

Venus  but  nodded  back  to  her  request. 

And  smiled  to  think  that  all  her  wiles  were  bare. 

Meantime  the  blushing  Dawn  leaves  Ocean's  bed. 
Sally  from  out  the  gates,  as  soon  as  light. 
The  chosen  band  with  fine  spun  nets  and  snares 
And  broad-blade  hunting  spears.  Come  thronging  forth 
The  Libyan  huntsmen  and  the  sharp-scent  hounds. 
About  her  door  the  Carthaginian  chiefs 
Await  the  queen,  who  at  her  toilet  stays. . 
Her  steed  stands  bright  wdth  purple  and  with  gold,  ^75 
And  champs  impatiently  the  frothing  bit. 
At  length  she  comes,  a  great  train  following  her, 
Clad  in  a  Tyrian  frock  with  broidered  edge, 
A  golden  quiver  at  her  back,  her  hair 


io8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Knotted  with  gold,  and  at  the  waist  her  robe 

Of  purple  fastened  with  a  golden  clasp. 

Little  lulus  and  the  Trojan  guests 

Advance  with  her.    But,  comeliest  of  them  all, 

^neas  hastens  to  her  side  and  joins 

His  friends  with  hers.    So  doth  Apollo  step 

On  Cynthus  top,  and  bind  his  clustering  hair 

With  wreaths  of  tender  leaves,  and  knot  it  up 

With  gold,  his  quiver  rattling  at  his  back. 

When  he  from  Lycia  goes  and  Xanthus'  stream 

In  winter  time,  and  home  to  Delos  comes  —  «9o 

His  mother's  isle  where  he  the  choral  dance 

Renews,  while,  flocking  round  his  altars,  rings 

The  loud  acclaim  of  Cretans,  Dryopes, 

And  painted  Agathyrsi.    Lithe  as  he, 

^neas  moves  along,  so  fine  the  grace  »9S 

That  lights  the  noble  bearing  of  the  man ! 

Soon  as  the  mountain  ridge  and  pathless  wood 
They  reach,  lo !  leaping  from  the  tops  of  rocks. 
The  wild  goats  run  along  the  cliffs.  Elsewhere, 
A  crowding  dusty  mass,  leap  herds  of  deer  200 
Across  the  open  wolds  and  leave  the  hills. 
Straight  through  the  runs  the  boy  Ascanius  flies, 
Elated  with  his  mettled  steed,  outstrips 
Now  these  now  those,  and  wishes  prayers  could  bring 
A  frothing  boar  instead  of  timid  does,  205 
Or  tawny  lion  down  the  heights  would  rush ! 

Meantime  the  loud-disturbing  roar  of  heaven 
Begins :  a  storm  of  rain  and  hail  comes  on. 
The  Trojan  leaders  and  their  Tyrian  friends 
And  Venus'  Trojan  grandson  all  disperse 


BOOK  IV. 


109 


In  terror,  seeking  shelter  everywhere 

Throughout  the  woods.  Down  from  the  mountains  gush 

The  streams.    But  Dido  and  the  Trojan  chief 

Seek  the  same  cave.    Primeval  goddess  Earth 

And  Juno,  goddess  of  the  wooing,  give  ^^5 

The  signal.    Lightnings  flash,  the  very  air 

Glows  conscious  with  this  wedlock,  and  the  nymphs 

Flit  shrieking  on  the  mountain  top.    That  day 

The  seed  of  death  and  woes  to  come  was  sown. 

It  matters  not  to  Dido  what  is  said, 

Or  what  the  look,  for  now  no  more  she  thinks 

Of  blushing  for  her  love,  but  says  his  wife 

She  is,  and  hides  her  slip  beneath  that  name. 

Quick,  Rumor  runs   through    Libya's  crowded 
towns ; — 

Rumor  that  hath  no  rival  curse  for  speed,  "s 

Moves  but  to  grow,  and  going  gathers  strength. 

Creeping  at  first  with  fear,  anon  she  rears 

Herself  aloft,  and  walks  the  ground,  and  thrusts 

Her  head  amid  the  clouds.    Her  mother  Earth, 

To  spite  the  vengeful  gods,  gave  birth  to  her  ^30 

The  youngest  sister,  so  the  story  goes, 

Of  giants  Caeus  and  Enceladus, 

As  swift  of  foot  as  on  the  rapid  wing, — 

A  monster  huge  and  terrible,  with  eyes 

That  lurk  but  never  close,  as  many  eyes  ^^s 

As  feathers  on  her  trunk, —  as  many  tongues. 

As  many  noisy  mouths,  as  many  ears 

Pricked  up  to  hear.    She  sweeps  at  night  half  way 

'Twixt  heaven  and  earth,  and  buzzes  as  she  goes, 

Nor  e'er  in  gentle  slumber  shuts  her  lids. 


no 


THE  ^NEID. 


By  day  she  sits  at  watch  on  peak  of  roof 
Or  turret-top,  and  o'er  great  cities-full 
In  terror  reigns,  as  stiff  to  spread  a  lie 
Or  slander  as  to  tell  the  truth.    'Twas  she 
That  now  was  pouring  in  the  people's  ears,  ^45 
With  fiendish  joy,  a  thousand  tales,  nor  cared 
Whether  'twere  true  or  false  she  spread  abroad, — 
That  there  had  thither  come  ^neas,  born 
Of  Trojan  stock;  that  the  fair  Dido  now 
Demeaned  herself  in  marriage  to  this  man ;  ^50 
And  that  together  they  in  dalliance  still 
The  whole  long  winter  reveled,  heedless  both 
Of  duty  to  the  state,  and  both  enerved 
With  lust  of  baser  things.    This,  everywhere, 
The  foul-tongued  goddess  filtered  through  men's 
mouths.  25s 
To  king  larbas  soon  she  bent  her  way. 
With  words  inflamed  his  heart  and  fired  his  rage. 

Son  of  nymph  Garamantis  —  outraged  she 
By  Hammon — he  within  his  broad  domains 
Had  reared  to  Jupiter  a  hundred  shrines,  ^^o 
A  hundred  stately  temples,  and  in  each 
Made  consecrate  an  ever  burning  fire  — 
The  eternal  watch-fire  of  the  gods  —  the  ground 
Thick  soaked  with  blood  of  sheep,  the  gate-ways 
decked 

With  wreaths  of  many  flowers.    Hot  headed  he  265 
And  by  the  galling  rumor  stung,  before 
The  altars,  mid  the  statues  of  the  gods, 
A  suppliant  with  uplifted  hands,  'tis  said, 
Thus  plied  he  hard  with  Jove :  "Almighty  Jove, 


BOOK  IV. 


1  1 1 


To  whom  the  Moorish  race  on  gaudy  couch 

At  feast  pour  out  the  honors  of  the  wine, 

Dost  look  on  this  ?  or  are  we  fools  to  cringe 

When,  Father,  thou  dost  hurl  the  thunderbolt  ? 

Is  it  but  mock  of  fire  that  shakes  our  souls 

And  blends  the  lightnings'  harmless  murmurings  ?  275 

Here  hath  a  woman,  wandering  on  our  shores,  — 

Who  for  a  pittance  buys  a  paltry  town, 

To  whom  we  give  a  strip  of  shore  to  plough 

And  o'er  its  borders  jurisdiction,  —  scorned 

The  offer  of  our  hand,  and  taken  up 

^neas  for  the  master  of  her  realm ! 

And  now  this  little  Paris,  with  a  tail 

Of  weaklings  at  his  heels,  a  Phrygian  cap 

Tied  'neath  his  chin  and  down  his  scented  hair. 

Toys  with  the  prize  we  lost.    Meantime  our  gifts  ^85 

We  to  thy  temples  bring,  and  boast  the  faith 

That  vainly  links  our  origin  to  thee." 

As  thus  larbas  to  the  altars  clung 
And  begged,  him  the  Almighty  heard.  He  turned 
His  gaze  upon  the  city  of  the  queen,  *9o 
The  lovers  lost  to  nicer  sense  of  shame. 
Then  thus  to  Mercury  he  spake,  and  gave 
To  him  this  charge :  "  Up  now,  and  forth,  my  son. 
The  Zephyrs  call,  and  wing  to  earth  thy  flight ! 
Bespeak  the  Trojan  chief  who  lags  so  long  295 
In  Tyrian  Carthage,  and  remembers  not 
What  city  'tis  the  fates  have  given  to  him. 
Bear  him  my  bidding  swiftly  through  the  air. 
Not  such  his  lovely  mother  painted  him 
To  me,  and  so  twice  saved  him  from  the  Greeks  300 


112 


THE  ^NEID. 


In  battle,  but  as  one  whose  leadership 
Should  bring  imperial  might  and  war-renown 
To  Italy,  and  who  his  lineage  down 
From  Teucer's  noble  blood  would  prove,  and  bring 
The  whole  world  to  his  best.    But  if  he  feel  305 
No  prick  to  such  a  glorious  destiny, 
Nor  rates  his  fame  above  the  toil  it  costs, 
Doth  yet  the  father  of  Ascanius  too 
Envy  his  son  the  palaces  of  Rome  ? 
What  means  the  man?     Or  what  the  stake  that 
keeps  310 
Him  lingering  with  his  country's  foes  ?    Doth  he 
Forget  the  race  he  owes  to  Italv. 
The  fields  that  for  him  in  Lavinium  wait  ? 
Let  him  to  sea :  this  warning  is  our  last. 
Of  this  our  will  be  thou  the  messenger."  315 

No  sooner  said,  than  Mercury  sets  out 
His  mighty  Sire's  behest  to  do.    And  first, 
A  pair  of  golden  sandals  on  his  feet 
He  binds,  which  on  their  wings  lift  him  aloft. 
And  bear  him  swift  as  light  o'er  sea  and  land.  320 
He  snatches  next  the  rod  with  which  from  hell 
He  becks  pale  ghosts  or  sends  them  to  its  curse. 
With  this  he  gives  or  robs  of  sleep,  and  shuts 
The  eyes  that  faint  in  death.   Empowered  by  this. 
He  cleaves  the  winds  and  swims  the  billowing  clouds.  32s 
Already  on  his  flight  he  comes  in  view 
Of  rugged  Atlas'  top  and  towering  cliffs, 
Whose  summit  props  the  sky,  and  round  whose  head, 
Heavy  with  pines,  forever  frown  the  clouds. 
And  beat  the  wind  and  rain.    His  shoulders  lie  S3<» 


BOOK  IV. 


Beneath  the  mantle  of  the  snow,  while  down 

The  old  man  of  the  mountain's  chin  gush  streams, 

And  stiffens  with  the  ice  his  shaggy  beard. 

Here,  poised  on  even  wings,  lights  Mercury, 

Then  headlong  towards  the  waves  with  all  his 

weight  335 
He  casts  him  like  a  bird,  that  round  about 
The  shores  and  rocks  that  swarm  with  fish,  flies  low 
Along  the  beach.    Thus  swooping  from  the  abode 
Of  his  maternal  grandsire.  Mercury 
Along  the  coast  of  Libya  skims,  and  cuts  340 
The  winds,  with  heaven  above  and  earth  below. 

His  flying  feet  but  touch  the  cottages. 
Ere  he  beholds  ^neas  building  towers 
And  renovating  walls,  upon  his  thigh 
A  sword  with  yellow  jasper  set,  —  a  cloak  345 
Down  hanging  from  his  shoulders,  all  ablaze 
With  Tyrian  purple.    Gifts  to  him  were  these 
That  Dido  lavishly  had  made,  the  warp 
Enwrought  with  threads  of  gold.    Quick  Mercury 
Attacks  him  :  "  Is  it  thou  that  layest  thus  3so 
The  walls  of  haughty  Carthage  and  dost  build. 
To  keep  thy  mistress'  favor,  this  fair  town  ? 
Alas  !  that  thou  forget'st  the  sovereignty. 
The  empire  thou  should'st  found  for  thee  and  thine ! 
To  thee  the  very  God  of  gods  himself,  35s 
Who  sways  at  will  the  heavens  and  the  earth. 
Hath  sent  me  down  from  bright  Olympus'  peak  ! 
'Tis  he  hath  bid  me  swiftly  through  the  air 
His  mandates  fetch.  What  dost  thou  here   or  what 
The  stake  that  keeps  thee  dallying  on  the  sands  360 
8 


114 


THE  ^NEID. 


Of  Libya's  shore  ?    But  if  thou  feel'st  no  prick 

To  thy  great  destiny,  nor  ratest  fame 

Above  the  toil  it  costs,  at  least  regard 

Ascanius'  budding  hopes,  the  heritage 

That  waits  lulus,  unto  whom  .are  due  ^ 

The  realm  of  Italy  and  soil  of  Rome." 

So  Mercur}'  spake,  and  fled  from  mortal  sight 

WTiile  yet  he  spake,  and  from  the  eyes  of  men 

In  thin  air  faded,  and  was  gone  afar. 

Ah  !  then  ^neas  at  the  sight  was  dazed  37c 
And  dumb.    His  hair  with  horror  stood  on  end, 
His  voice  stuck  in  his  throat.    Stunned  at  such  hest 
And  warning  from  the  gods,  he  bums  to  fly 
And  quit  that  land  of  sweets.    Alas  for  him ! 
What  can  he  do  ?  with  what  excuse  now  dare  375 
To  cheat  the  queen  whose  love  to  madness  grows  ? 
What  step  the  first  to  take  ?    Now  here,  now  there, 
He  swiftly  turns  his  thoughts,  at  every  hint 
He  grasps,  and  thinks  of  ever}-thing  at  once. 
In  doubt,  this  seems  to  him  the  better  plan :  380 
Mnestheus,  Sergestus  and  Cloanthus  brave 
He  bids  fit  out  the  fleet  in  secrecy, 
Gather  the  men  on  shore,  make  ready  arms. 
And  lie  if  asked  the  purpose  of  the  move. 
Meantime,  in  her  unbounded  giving  up  5*5 
While  Dido  naught  suspects,  and  has  no  fear 
That  love  so  sweet  can  be  asunder  torn, 
He  makes  it  his  to  learn  how  he  the  queen 
May  best  approach,  —  when  easiest  wheedle  her,  — 
What  course  to  take.   Well  pleased  and  quickly  they  390 
His  mandate  heed,  and  do  what  he  commands. 


BOOK  IV. 


"5 


Yet,  spite  of  all,  the  instinct  of  the  queen 
Foreboded  ill  —  for  who  love's  vigilance 
Can  cheat?  —  herself  the  first  to  read  aright 
The  purpose  of  the  stir,  at  every  breath  39S 
Alarmed,  though  naught  of  danger  breathed.  The 
same 

Malicious  Rumor  feeds  the  fire  afresh. 

And  whispers  her  the  fleet  is  fitting  forth, 

Its  course  all  mapped.    Out  of  her  mind,  she  raves 

Aflame  the  city  through, — no  Bacchant  more  400 

Distraught  at  opening  of  the  sacred  rites. 

Or  stirred  at  Bacchus'  voice  triennial-night 

When  with  the  orgies  loud  Cithaeron  rings,  — 

Till  last  she  seeks  and  storms  ^neas  thus : 

"  And  hop'st  thou,  traitor,  to  conceal  so  base  405 
A  shame,  or  from  my  borders  sneak  unseen  ? 
Do  not  my  love,  the  pledge  of  hand  in  hand, 
The  thought  of  Dido  dying  wretchedly. 
Stay  thee  ?    Nay,  art  so  cruel  as  to  launch 
Thy  fleet  while  yet  the  star  of  winter  rules,  410 
Or  haste  to  sail  amid  these  northern  blasts  ? 
What  would'st?    E'en  sought'st  thou  not  a  foreign 
strand 

Nor  homes  in  exile,  and  though  ancient  Troy 

Were  standing  yet,  thou  would'st  not  sail  for  Troy 

O'er  such  a  stormy  sea  !  Would'st  part  from  me  ?  41s 

Nay,  since  naught  else  is  left  to  my  despair, 

I  beg  thee  by  these  tears,  thy  plighted  hand. 

Our  marriage  bed,  our  wedlock  just  begun, 

If  I  have  won  thee  aught,  or  my  caress 

Hath  seemed  thee  sweet,  have  pity  on  the  fall  420 


ii6 


THE  ^NEID. 


Of  me  and  mine,  I  beg,  and  if  thy  heart 

Hath  nook  where  prayer  can  enter,  do  not  go ! 

Because  of  thee,  the  tribes  of  Libya  hate. 

The  Nomad  despots  hate  me ;  e'en  my  own, 

My  Tyrian  people  lower.    My  sense  of  shame,  425 

My  fleckless  name,  with  which  if  with  naught  else 

I  was  so  near  the  glory  of  the  stars, 

All  have  I  lost  —  lost  for  thy  sake  alone. 

And  to  whose  hands,  O  guest  —  if  only  thus 

And  never  husband  I  may  call  thee  more  —  430 

Dost  thou  abandon  me,  sick  unto  death  ? 

What  is  there  left  for  me,  except  to  let 

Pygmalion  now,  my  brother,  raze  my'  walls. 

Or  the  Gaetulian  sheik  larbas  lead 

Me  captive  home  ?    Would  that  I  might  at  least  435 

Have  borne  thee  babes,  a  little  son  whom  I 

Could  call  ^neas,  playing  in  my  halls. 

And  in  his  face  read  memories  of  thine  own ! 

Then  should  I  seem  not  all  bereft  or  lost." 

She  spake.  He,  warned  by  Jove,  moved  not  his  eyes,  440 

But  strove  to  hide  the  torture  in  his  heart. 

At  last  he  briefly  speaks  :  "  Never,  O  queen, 

Shall  I  deny  that  more  than  words  can  tell 

Thou  hast  deserved  of  me ;  nor  e'er  will  tire 

My  heart  remembering  still,  Elisa,  thee  445 

So  long  as  I  remember  self,  or  life 

Is  in  my  veins.    Let  me  a  little  say 

In  point.    Think  not  I  hoped  to  make  my  flight 

By  stealth.    To  marriage  I  have  never  made 

Pretence,  nor  come  into  its  bonds.    Had  fate  450 

Permitted  me  to  lead  my  life  at  will, 


BOOK  IV. 


117 


Or  shape  my  wishes  as  I  would,  I  had 

Built  up,  foremost  of  all,  the  walls  of  Troy, 

The  ruins  of  my  own  loved  home ;  and  now 

The  lofty  towers  of  Priam  would  be  up,  455 

And  I  its  citadel,  by  this  right  hand 

Rebuilt,  should  to  my  countrymen  restore. 

But  see  !  Apollo  at  Grynaeum  bids, 

As  also  bid  the  Lycian  oracles, 

That  I  must  grasp  at  mighty  Italy  !  4^° 

That  is  my  aim,  and  that  my  country  is. 

If  thee,  a  Tyrian  thou,  the  citadels 

Of  Carthage  and  this  Libyan  city's  site 

Detain,  what  blame  is  there  because  at  last 

The  Trojans  settle  on  Italian  soil  ?  '♦^s 

Our  duty  'tis  to  seek  a  distant  realm. 

No  night  enfolds  the  earth  at  dewy  eve. 

The  stars  ne'er  rise  and  burn,  but  in  my  sleep 

My  sire  Anchises'  anxious  ghost  doth  warn 

And  torture  me,  as  doth  the  duty  due  470 

My  boy  Ascanius,  with  the  wrong  I  lay 

On  his  belovbd  head,  whom  I  defraud 

Of  his  Italian  realm  and  of  the  lands 

Allotted  him  by  fate.    It  was  but  now 

The  angel  of  the  gods,  sent  down  by  Jove  475 

Himself  —  I  swear  by  either  deity  — 

Swift  through  the  air  their  bidding  brought.  Myself 

I  saw  the  god  in  open  day-light  leap 

The  walls,  and  heard  him  with  these  ears  of  mine. 

No  more  with  thy  repinings  tease  thyself  480 

Or  me.    I  seek  not  Italy  at  will." 

While  thus  he  speaks,  she  looks  askance,  her  eyes 


ii8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Roll  wildly,  and  with  silent  scorn  survey 

Him  head  to  foot,  till  last  her  rage  bursts  forth  : 

"  Thou  liar !  no  goddess  gave  thee  birth,  nor  e'er  485 

Was  Dardanus  the  founder  of  thy  race ! 

The  cheerless  rocks  of  savage  Caucasus 

Begot,  Hyrcanian  tigers  gave  thee  suck  ! 

For  why  should  I  dissemble  more,  or  stay 

My  anger  but  to  cringe  to  deeper  wrongs  ?  490 

Hath  he  so  much  as  sighed  to  see  me  weep  ? 

Or  bent  one  pit5''ing  look  ?    Or  shed  a  tear 

Of  tenderness  for  one  who  loved  him  so  ? 

Yet  why  should  I  blame  him  beyond  the  rest ! 

No,  no,  nor  Juno  queen,  nor  Father  Jove  495 

Now  deigns  one  look  of  justice  at  these  wrongs ! 

There  is  no  true  heart  left  in  all  the  world ! 

A  fool,  I  took  this  beggar,  cast  away 

Upon  my  shore,  and  shared  with  him  my  realm. 

I  saved  his  shipwrecked  mariners  from  death.  500 

And  now  he  tells  me  I  am  mad,  and  cants 

Of  Phoebus'  seer,  and  Lycian  oracles. 

And  then  of  angels  of  the  gods,  sent  down 

By  Jove  himself  to  hurry  through  the  air 

Their  brutal  bidding !    And  is  such,  forsooth,  sos 

The  employment  of  the  gods  ?    Is  such  the  load 

Of  their  solicitude  ?    I  keep  thee  not, 

Nor  deign  to  prick  thy  sophistries.    Go,  go, 

Set  sail  for  Italy ;  search  out  a  realm 

Beyond  the  sea !    Yet  none  the  less  I  hope,  sio 

If  heaven's  pure  justice  can  be  done,  that  thou 

Wilt  suffer  vengeance,  wrecked  amid  the  reefs, 

And  ever  call  on  Dido's  name.  Afar, 


BOOK  IV. 


119 


I  yet  will  follow  thee  with  fires  of  hate ; 
And  when  cold  death  shall  suck  my  limbs  of  life,  515 
My  ghost  shall  haunt  thee  everywhere.   Thou,  wretch, 
Shalt  meet  thy  doom,  and  I  shall  hear 't :  the  tale 
Will  come  to  me  far  down  among  the  dead." 
Half-through,  she  stopped,  turned  swooning  from  the 
light. 

And  fled  to  hide  her  from  before  his  face,  520 

And  left  him  hesitating  what  to  say 

While  yet  he  would  have  said  so  much.    Her  maids 

Uplift  and  to  the  marble  chamber  bear 

Her  fainting  limbs,  and  lay  them  on  a  couch. 

But  reverent  -^neas,  much  as  he  525 
Desires  to  soothe  her  grief  with  tenderness, 
Or  speak  some  word  of  hope,  heart-broken  he. 
His  great  love  shattering  his  will,  yet  heeds 
The  bidding  of  the  gods,  and  to  his  fleet 
Goes  back.    Then  lustily  the  Trojans  work.  S3o 
All  down  the  shore  they  drag  their  high-built  craft ; 
Each  tarry  keel  is  launched.    So  fierce  to  go. 
From  out  the  woods  they  gather  boughs  still  thick 
With  leaves,  and  rough  with  knots.    There  back  and 
forth 

You  saw  them  bustling,  pouring  from  the  town,  535 
Like  ants  that  gather  in  great  heaps  of  corn, 
And  store  it  up  for  winter  in  their  cells  : 
Across  the  sand  the  black  battalion  go. 
And  drag  their  spoil  in  narrow  paths  'twixt  blades 
Of  grass :  their  shoulders  at  the  load,  some  push  54© 
Great  grains ;  some  urge  the  column  on,  and  lash 
The  drones ;  the  whole  line  glows  with  busy  life. 


120 


THE  ^NEID. 


What  torture,  Dido,  then,  at  such  a  sight 
Was  thine !    What  cry  of  grief  broke  from  thy  soul 
To  look  from  turret-top  and  see  the  shore  54S 
Aswarm,  and  there  before  thine  eyes  the  sea's 
Whole  surface  in  confusion  such  as  that ! 
Thou  bitter  gall  of  love,  to  what  dost  not 
Impel  the  human  heart  ?    She  cannot  help 
But  burst  again  in  tears,  try  once  again  ss^ 
What  prayers  may  do,  and  yield,  a  suppliant  still, 
Her  resolution  to  her  love,  so  she. 
If  die  she  must  in  vain,  leave  naught  untried. 

"  Anna,  thou  see'st  the  stir  all  down  the  shore. 
From  every  hand  they  gather  in.    Their  sails  sss 
Now  tempt  the  breeze,  the  happy  sailors  deck 
The  sterns  with  garlands.    Could  I  have  foreseen 
This  blow,  my  sister,  I  had  borne  it  too. 
Yet,  wretched  as  I  am,  grant  me  one  boon ; 
For,  traitor  that  he  was,  he  deference  gave 
To  none  but  thee,  told  thee  his  secret  thoughts, 
And  only  thou  did'st  know  when  best  and  how 
To  reach  the  man.    Haste,  sister,  speak  and  beg 
This  merciless  invader  of  my  heart ; 
Tell  him  it  was  not  I  that  took  an  oath  565 
At  Aulis  with  the  Greeks  to  exterminate 
The  Trojan  race,  and  fitted  out  a  fleet 
'Gainst  Pergamos.    It  was  not  I  disturbed 
His  sire  Anchises'  ashes  and  his  ghost. 
Ask  him  why  lets  he  not  my  words  to  his  570 
Relentless  ears,  and  why  he  hastes  him  so ! 
This  last  grace  let  him  grant  the  unhappy  heart 
That  loves  him  still !  Then  may  he  have  good  voyage 


BOOK  IV. 


121 


And  breezes  fair !    The  love  of  man  and  wife, 

That  once  was  ours,  and  that  he  now  betrays,  575 

I  ask  no  more,  nor  e'en  that  he  forego 

The  Latium  that  he  thinks  so  fair,  or  waive 

The  king  he  is  to  be.    I  only  ask 

A  little  paltry  time  to  rest  me  in 

And  stay  this  agony,  till  day  by  day  580 

My  bruised  heart  learn  to  bear  its  grief.    I  beg 

But  this  last  favor;  —  oh,  let  pity  plead 

Thy  sister's  cause !  — and  but  he  grant  me  this. 

Then  he  may  go,  and  I  shall  lay  on  him 

No  other  burden  than  that  I  am  dead."  sSs 

So  keeps  she  pleading,  and  her  messages 
Of  tears,  in  sorrow  o'er  and  o'er  again 
The  sister  bears.    No  tears  move  him  :  no  prayers 
Doth  he  relent  to  hear.    The  Fates  stand  guard. 
And  Jove  hath  locked  the  warrior's  ears  that  ne'er  590 
Were  deaf  before.    So,  sweeping  from  the  Alps, 
The  whirlwinds  of  the  north  beat  back  and  forth 
Some  oak  that  hath  the  strength  of  centuries. 
And  strain,  each  fiercer  for  the  rest,  to  root 
It  from  the  earth  .-  loud  roars  the  gale,  and  far  595 
And  wide,  down  from  the  surging  boughs,  the  leaves 
Are  strewn  upon  the  ground :  the  tree  itself 
Clings  to  its  rocky  hold,  and  high  in  air 
As  towers  its  top,  so  deep  toward  hell  go  down 
Its  roots.    So  is  the  hero  buffeted  600 
At  every  turn,  incessantly  besought. 
His  stout  heart  on  the  rack.    But  like  a  rock 
His  purpose  stands :  tears  deluge  him  in  vain. 

Hopeless  at  last,  in  terror  at  her  fate, 


122 


THE  ^NEID. 


Dido  but  asks  to  die,  and  tires  to  look  605 

Upon  the  canopy  of  heaven.    And,  as  if 

To  better  work  her  wish  and  speed  her  death, 

While,  at  the  fragrant  altars  offering  gifts, 

She  notes  the  sacred  liquors — fearful  sight!  — 

Grow  black,  the  wine-flow  change  to  ominous  blood. 

To  none,  not  e'en  her  sister,  she  reveals 

The  omen.    There  was,  too,  within  her  courts 

A  marble  temple,  which  religiously 

She  kept  in  honor  of  her  former  lord, 

With  snow-white  fleeces  hung  and  sacred  wreaths,  ^^s 

Thence,  oft  as  night  lay  dark  upon  the  earth, 

Came  whispers  and  her  husband's  voice  that  seemed 

To  summon  her.    A  solitary  owl 

Hooted  its  weird  complaint  upon  the  roof, 

In  mournful  cadence  long  drawn  out.  Moreo'er, 

The  priests  foreboded  much,  and  tortured  her 

With  warnings  terrible.    E'er  in  her  dreams 

^neas,  still  relentless,  drives  her  wild ; 

She  seems  to  be  forever  left  alone, 

To  go  alone  a  never-ending  road,  625 

And  grope  for  Tyre  through  trackless  wilds.     So  'tis, 

When  crazy  Pentheus  swarms  of  furies  sees, 

The  sun  show  double,  and  a  double  Thebes : 

Or  when,  upon  the  stage,  a  madman,  cowers 

Orestes,  Agamemnon's  son,  before  ^30 

His  mother's  crown  of  flame  and  hissing  snakes, 

While  vengeful  demons  squat  where'er  he  turns ! 

And  so  it  is  that  when  she  feels  her  doom 
Is  sealed,  o'erwhelmed  with  grief  and  bent  on  death, 
In  secret  she  the  time  and  method  plans,  ^3s 


BOOK  IV. 


123 


And  works  upon  her  grieving  sister  thus, 

Her  face  a  traitor  to  the  truth,  her  brow 

Serene  with  hope  :  "  Dear  sister,  give  me  joy ! 

I  know  a  way  to  bring  him  back  to  me, 

Or  loose  the  love  that  fetters  me  to  him.  ^^'^ 

Near  Ocean's  outer  bound,  where  sets  the  sun,  — 

Remotest  dwelling-place  of  Ethiop, 

Where  mighty  Atlas  on  his  shoulder  turns 

The  axis  of  the  glittering,  starry  sky,  — 

Was  pointed  out  to  me  a  priestess  once, 

Who  kept  the  temple  of  the  Hesperides, 

And  served  the  dragon's  food,  and  had  in  care 

The  branches  of  the  sacred  tree,  and  flung 

Down  honey-drops  and  drowsy  poppy-seed. 

She  claims  with  spells  to  set  from  passion  free,  ^so 

And  lay  its  torturing  cark  on  whom  she  will, 

To  stay  the  rivers,  or  turn  back  the  stars. 

At  night  she  wakes  the  dead ;  beneath  her  feet. 

You  see  the  earth  quake  and  the  woods  come  down 

The  mountain.    By  the  gods  I  swear,  by  thee,  ^ss 

Sweet  sister  mine,  by  thy  dear  head,  it  is 

Against  my  will  I  dare  these  magic  arts ! 

But  secretly  do  thou  erect  a  pyre 

In  open  air,  within  the  inner  court, 

And  on  it  pile  the  hero's  sword,  which  he  ^ 

Left  hanging  in  my  chamber,  every  rag 

The  traitor  vaunted,  and  the  bridal  bed 

On  which  I  was  undone.    The  priestess  bade 

To  blot  out  every  relic  of  the  wretch, 

And  told  me  how."    This  said,  she  silent  grew,  ^^s 

And  pallor  fell  upon  her  face  the  while. 

I 


124 


THE  .ENEID. 


Yet  ne'er  dreamed  Anna  that  her  sister  made 
These  strange  rites  but  the  cover  of  her  death, 
Nor  knew  that  woman's  heart  could  suffer  so, 
Nor  feared  aught  worse  than  when  Sichaeus  died ;  ^7° 
And  so  she  did  the  bidding  of  the  queen. 
But  Dido,  when  within  the  inner  court 
In  open  air  the  mounting  pyre  is  built 
Of  rifted  pine  and  oak,  hangs  garlands  there 
And  wreathes  it  with  funereal  leaves.    On  it  ^75 
She  lays  whate'er  he  wore,  the  sword  he  left, 
And  on  a  bed  his  effigy,  for  she 
Well  knows  what  is  to  come.    Altars  surround 
The  pyre.    The  priestess  with  dishevelled  hair 
Thrice  calls  in  thunder  tones  a  hundred  gods,  680 
Calls  Erebus  and  Chaos,  and  invokes 
The  triple  Hecate  loud,  the  three  in  one 
Of  the  immaculate  Diana.  She 
Had  showered  feigned  waters  from  Avernus'  lake, 
And  now  was  forth  beneath  the  moon  to  cut 
With  brazen  knife  a  crop  of  herbs  full  grown 
And  with  black  poison  rank,  or  rip  from  out 
The  forehead  of  a  foal  the  love-lump  ere 
Its  dam  could  snatch  it.    Dido,  all  the  while. 
Her  frock  unloosed,  one  foot  unshod  and  bare,  ^90 
Still  at  the  altars  spreads  with  reverent  hands 
The  salted  meal,  and  bent  on  death,  implores 
The  gods  and  stars,  that  long  have  read  her  fate, 
To  vindicate  her  purpose.    If  there  be 
One  Power  so  just,  so  gracious  as  to  care  ^5 
When  love  to  love  is  false,  to  that  she  prays. 
'Twas  night ;  and  weariness  o'er  all  the  earth 


BOOK  IV. 


In  peaceful  slumber  sank  to  rest.    No  breath 

Was  in  the  woods  or  on  the  fitful  sea. 

It  was  the  time  when,  half  their  circuit  o'er,  700 

The  stars  began  to  fall ;  when  fields  and  flocks 

Lay  still,  and  birds  were  nestling  'neath  their  wings 

Of  many  hues ;  when  all  that  lives  within 

The  water-depths,  and  all  that  in  the  fields 

And  forest  dwell,  under  the  silent  night  705 

In  deep  sleep  lying,  dreamed  all  care  away, 

And  human  hearts  forgot  that  life  is  toil. 

But  not  the  aching  heart  of  Dido.  Ne'er 

In  slumber  resteth  she,  nor  in  her  breast 

Nor  on  her  eyes  the  blessing  of  the  night.  7^° 

Her  soul  is  dark ;  her  love  springs  fresh  again. 

And  wild  with  every  gust  of  passion  beats. 

So  now  she  ponders  and  her  heart  o'erflows  : 

"  O  gods,  what  is  there  left  ?    Shall  I  tempt  back 

The  bygone  lovers  that  would  mock  me  now  ?  71s 

Shall  I  among  the  Nomads  on  my  knees 

A  husband  beg,  when  I  so  many  times 

Have  spurned  their  suit  ?    Or  shall  I  rather  chase 

The  galleys  of  the  Trojans,  and  howe'er 

Degrading  be  their  terms,  submit  because  72a 

They  take  it  kindly  I  once  aided  them, 

And  a  good  memory  feels  gratitude 

For  favors  done }    Nay,  who  of  them,  were  I 

To  go,  would  give  me  place,  or  let  me,  whom 

They  hate,  step  foot  upon  his  haughty  deck  ?  725 

Fool  that  I  am  who  know  not  yet,  nor  see 

The  treachery  of  this  lying  Trojan  race  ! 

What  if  I  join  their  flight ;  shall  I  expose 


126 


THE  ^NEID. 


Myself  to  their  insulting  crews  alone, — 

Or  with  my  Tyrians  go  accompanied,  730 

With  all  my  people  in  my  train,  and  thus 

Cast  on  the  sea  again  and  bid  set  sail 

Before  the  wind  those  whom  I  have  but  now 

Dragged  from  their  Sidon  homes  ?    Nay,  let  me  die 

As  die  I  ought,  and  with  the  sword  let  out  735 

My  grief !    Sister,  'twas  thou  that  at  the  first. 

Surrendering  to  my  tears,  made  folly  worse 

With  all  this  load  of  ills,  and  to  the  foe 

Made  me  an  easy  spoil.    They  would  not  let 

Me  live  a  quiet,  blameless  widowhood  740 

From  marriage  free,  unharassed  by  these  woes : 

I  broke  the  faith  I  pledged  Sichaeus'  ghost." 

Such  was  the  plaint  came  sobbing  from  her  breast. 

^neas  on  his  lofty  deck,  now  sure 
To  go,  and  every  preparation  made,  74s 
Had  thrown  him  down  to  sleep.    Upon  his  dreams 
Broke  in  the  figure  of  the  god  returned 
With  face  unchanged,  like  Mercury  in  all, 
In  voice,  in  hue,  the  yellow  hair,  the  grace 
Of  youthful  shape,  and  thus  a  second  time  750 
His  warning  seemed  to  give  :    "  Thou  goddess'  son, 
Canst  sleep  at  such  an  hour  as  this  ?    See'st  not 
The  dangers  that  encompass  thee  ?    Art  mad, 
That  hearest  not  the  kindly  zephyrs  breathe  ? 
She  nurses  mischief  in  her  breast  and  fierce  753 
Revenge,  resolved  to  die,  yet  beat  about 
By  every  gust  of  passion.    Hasten  hence 
Thy  flight,  while  hasten  it  thou  canst.    If  once 
The  morn  dawn  on  thee  lingering  at  the  shore, 


BOOK  IV. 


127 


Thou  shalt  behold  the  harbor  swarm  with  rafts,  760 
The  vengeful  torches  mass  a  sheet  of  flame. 
Up,  up,  away !    Break  through  thy  sluggishness  ! 
Always  is  woman  fickleness  and  change." 
So  spake,  then  melted  in  the  black  of  night. 

Then  did  indeed  ^neas  spring  from  sleep  765 
Affrighted  at  the  sudden  darkening. 
And  woke  his  men.    "  Quick,  wake,  my  men,  and  man 
The  boats !    Set  sail !    No  time  to  lose  !    A  god. 
Sent  down  from  upper  air,  hath  bidden  me 
A  second  time  to  speed  my  flight  and  cut  770 
Our  cables.    Holy  angel  of  the  gods, 
Whoe'er  thou  art,  we  gladly  follow  thee. 
And  thy  command  again  obey  !    Be  near, 
O  god,  and  grant  thy  aid,  and  set  in  heaven 
Propitious  stars ! "    He  spake,  snatched  from  its 
sheath  77s 
His  gleaming  sword,  and  severed  at  a  stroke 
The  lines.    His  zeal  at  once  inspires  them  all : 
They  lift  the  kedge,  they  rush  aboard :  and  now 
Not  one  is  left  upon  the  shore.    The  waves 
Glide  underneath  their  keels.    Bent  to  the  oar,  78a 
They  toss  the  spray  and  cut  the  azure  deep. 

No  sooner  from  Jithonus'  blushing  bed 
Aurora  sprang  and  dewed  the  earth  with  light 
When  quick  as  e'er  the  queen  beheld  the  dawn 
Grow  pale,  and  from  her  tower  the  fleet  well  out  78s 
To  sea  with  all  sail  set  —  the  shore,  the  port 
Stripped  to  the  very  oars  —  incessantly 
She  beat  her  lovely  breast,  her  yellow  hair 
She  tore.    "  O  Jove,  shall  this  adventurer  thus 


128 


THE  ^NEID. 


Gohence,"  shecried,  "and  make  our  re  aim  his  sport?  790 

Will  not  my  people  arm  and  follow  him 

From  all  the  town  ?    Why  launch  they  not  my  boats  ? 

Go,  go,  quick  spread  the  flames !  make  sail,  pull,  pull 

The  oars  !  —  Why  do  I  call  ?  or  where  am  I  ? 

What  madness  is't  that  sets  my  mind  awhirl !  795 

Thou  poor  wretch  Dido,  thy  misdeeds  recoil 

Upon  thee  now !    Then  was  the  time  to  give 

Command  when  thou  did'st  hold  him  in  thy  power. 

Lo  !  this  the  honor,  this  the  faith  of  him 

Who  with  him  takes,  they  boast,  his  country's  gods,  ^ 

And  on  his  shoulders  bore  his  aged  sire  ! 

Had  I  not  power  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb, 

To  fling  him  in  the  sea,  to  put  to  sword 

His  men,  nay  e'en  Ascanius  his  own  son 

Serve  for  a  banquet  at  his  father's  board ! 

What  though  the  fortune  of  the  fight  had  hung 

In  doubt  ?    What,  though  it  had,  had  I  to  fear. 

Who  was  resolved  to  die  ?    I  might  have  put 

His  camp  to  torch,  his  hatches  stuffed  with  flames. 

Burnt  up  the  sire,  the  son,  and  the  whole  tribe, 

And  on  their  bodies  sacrificed  myself. 

O  Sun,  whose  pathway  streams  with  light  o'er  all 

The  works  of  earth ;  thou,  Juno,  messenger 

And  witness  of  my  sorrows ;  Hecate  thou, 

Howled  nightly  through  the  town  where  three  ways 

meet;  *'S  ^ 

Ye  venging  Furies,  and  ye  gods  who  look 
Upon  Elisa's  death,  take  heed,  redress 
My  wrongs  as  they  deserve,  and  hear  my  prayers  ! 
If  it  be  fate  that  this  accursed  wretch 


BOOK  IV. 


129 


Make  port  or  come  to  shore,  and  so  the  will 

Of  Jove  decrees,  and  that  must  be  the  end, 

Yet  vexed  by  war  and  a  brave  people's  arms, 

Expelled  his  borders,  torn  from  the  embrace 

Of  his  lulus,  may  he  beg  for  help. 

And  look  on  the  dishonored  death  of  friends : 

Nor,  when  he  yields  to  grinding  terms  of  peace, 

Let  him  enjoy  his  realm  or  length  of  life, 

But  let  him  die  before  his  time,  and  rot 

Unburied  on  the  sands.    For  this  I  pray ; 

This  my  last  wish  with  my  heart's  blood  I  pour.  ^30 

And  ye,  my  Tyrians,  then  his  race  pursue 

And  all  his  generations  hence  with  hate  ! 

Be  this  the  rite  ye  to  my  memory  pay ; 

Between  our  peoples  let  there  be  nor  peace 

Nor  league  !    Let  the  avenger  from  my  dust  ^3S 

Go  forth  and  scathe  these  Trojan  vagabonds 

With  fire  and  sword  !  Now  and  henceforth,  and  long 

As  heart  hath  strength  to  beat,  be  it  my  curse 

That  shore  to  shore,  and  wave  to  wave,  and  arm 

To  arm  be  deadly  foe ;  and  that  the  two 

And  their  descendants  wage  eternal  war !  " 

Thus  saying,  every  wit  she  sets  at  work 
How  quickest  she  may  end  her  hated  life. 
And  briefly  Barce  bids,  Sichaeus'  nurse  : 
(Her  own  lay  buried  in  her  native  land.)  ^45 
"  My  good  nurse,  get  me  sister  Anna  here ; 
Bid  her  with  running  water  sprinkle  her. 
And  sheep  and  sacrifices  with  her  bring : 
So  let  her  come.    About  my  temples  wreathe 
Thyself  the  sacred  fillet,  for  I  go  *5o 

9 


I30 


THE  .^:neid. 


To  offer  unto  Stygian  Jove  the  gifts 

I  duly  have  prepared,  so  I  may  end 

Our  woes,  and  burn  the  Trojan's  effigy." 

So  spake.    At  an  old  woman's  hobble  hastes 

The  nurse.    But  Dido,  frightened  at  her  own  ^55 

Unholy  work,  restless  her  blood-shot  eyes. 

The  tender,  trembling  lids  bedewed  with  tears. 

Ghastly  her  face  at  the  approach  of  death, 

Bursts  through  the  inner  doors,  in  frenzy  mounts 

The  summit  of  the  pyre,  and  draws  the  sword  —  s6o 

A  gift  ne'er  meant  for  such  a  use.    And  when 

She  sees  the  Trojan  dress,  the  well  known  bed, 

Tears  and  awakening  memory  stay  her  hand 

A  little  moment ;  then  she  throws  herself 

Upon  the  couch,  and  these  her  last  sad  words  :  865 

Ye  reHcs,  sweet  while  Jove  and  fate  were  kind, 
Receive  my  soul  and  solve  me  from  my  pain  ! 
My  life  is  o'er,  and  I  have  run  my  course 
As  fortune  led  the  way ;  my  spirit  free 
Now  to  the  country  of  the  dead  shall  go.  ^70 
A  noble  city  have  I  built,  and  walls 
Beheld  that  are  my  own.    I  have  avenged 
My  husband's  wrongs,  and  wreaked  the  penalty 
Upon  a  brother  who  did  murder  him. 
Happy,  alas !  too  happy,  had  but  ne'er  ^75 
A  Trojan  keel  grated  on  Libya's  shore." 
She  spake  and  kissed  and  kissed  the  couch,  and  cried : 
"  Shall  I  die  unavenged  ?    Nay,  let  me  die ! 
Thus,  thus  I  glory  as  I  go  to  death. 
Oh !  may  the  cruel  Trojan's  eyes  drink  in,  ^ 
Far  out  at  sea,  the  blazing  of  this  fire, 


BOOK  IV. 


And  with  him  bear  the  omens  of  my  death  ! " 

While  yet  she  speaks,  her  women  see  her  fall 

Upon  the  sword,  and  blood  spirt  up  the  blade, 

Bespattering  her  hands.    Echo  their  shrieks 

Outside  the  palace  walls.    The  story  speeds, 

And  sets  the  town  acraze ;  rings  every  house 

With  lamentations,  groans,  and  women's  cries ; 

And  the  loud  wailing  stuns  the  very  air 

As  though  the  foe  had  come,  and  ancient  Tyre  ^9° 

Or  Carthage  perished  root  and  branch,  while  flames 

Surged  madly  o'er  the  roofs  of  citizens 

And  temples  of  the  gods.    Anna  has  heard 

The  tale.    Breathless,  in  terror-stricken  haste. 

Beating  her  face  and  bosom,  through  the  throng  ^95 

She  rushes,  and  her  dying  sister  calls 

By  name  :    "  O  sister,  was  it  this  ?    Wert  thou 

Deceiving  me  ?  and  were  that  funeral  pile, 

Those  fires  and  altars  to  prepare  me  this  ? 

Bereft  of  thee,  I  count  no  other  loss.  900 

Did'st  thou  disdain  to  let  thy  sister  prove 

Thy  sister  too  in  death  ?    To  share  thy  fate 

Had'st  thou  but  summoned  me,  with  but  one  pang 

One  instant  should  the  sword  have  slain  us  both. 

Have  I  with  mine  own  hands  built  up  this  pyre,  905 

With  mine  own  lips  bur  country's  gods  invoked, 

But  to  be  far  —  as  if  my  heart  were  flint  — 

When  thou  wert  dying  on  it  thus  alone  ? 

O  !  sister,  thou  hast  utterly  destroyed 

Thyself  and  me,  people  and  ministers,  910 

And  Tyrian  commonwealth.    Give  water  here. 

And  let  me  wash  her  wounds  and,  if  there  yet  * 


132 


THE  .ENEID. 


One  last  breath  linger,  catch  it  from  her  lips." 
Thus  speaking,  she  hath  mounted  up  the  steps, 
Caresses  now  her  dying  sister  clasped  9*5 
Within  her  arms,  while  still  she  sobs,  and  tries 
To  stanch  the  crimson  blood  against  her  frock, 
And  Dido  strains  to  raise  her  heavy  lids 
Then  faints  again.    The  steel  that  pierced  her  side 
Grates  in  its  gash,  as  thrice  she  strives  to  rise  920 
Leaning  upon  her  arm,  and  thrice  falls  back 
Upon  the  couch.    With  eyes  that  grope  and  faint, 
Up  to  the  sky  she  looks  to  catch  the  light. 
And  sighs  when  it  is  lost  as  soon  as  found. 

In  pity  then  at  anguish  so  prolonged,  9*5 
So  hard  a  death,  almighty  Juno  sent 
Iris  from  heaven,  to  loose  the  mortal  coil 
And  let  the  struggling  spirit  free  at  last ; 
For  dying,  not  at  bidding  of  the  law. 
Nor  yet  in  nature's  course,  but  wickedly  930 
Before  her  time,  and  in  the  sudden  heat 
Of  passion,  Proserpine  not  yet  had  cut 
A  yellow  ringlet  from  her  head  nor  yet 
Consigned  her  soul  to  Pluto,  lord  of  Styx. 
And  so  it  was  that  Iris  of  the  Dew  93s 
On  shimmering  pinions  sped  athwart  the  sky. 
Trailed  from  the  sun  a  thousand  rainbow  hues. 
And  poised  o'er  Dido's  head.    "  The  sacred  lock 
To  Pluto  due  I  bear  as  bid  to  him, 
And  loose  thee  from  this  body  of  the  flesh."  940 
So  spake,  and  with  her  right  hand  cut  the  lock. 
Out  went  life's  flickering  glimmer  instantly : 
The  spirit  shot  into  the  wandering  air. 


FIFTH  BOOK. 


A /TEANTIME  straighten  his  voyage  ^neas  fared, 
And  cut  the  waves  that  roughened  with  the 
wind, 

His  eyes  e'er  on  the  city  riveted 

That  now  was  blazing  with  poor  Dido's  flames. 

It  puzzles  all  what  lights  so  great  a  fire :  s 

And  yet  the  consciousness  how  sharp  the  pang 

When  passionate  love  is  blighted,  and  how  much 

A  woman's  frenzy  dares,  awakes  a  sense 

Of  dark  foreboding  in  each  Trojan  breast. 

Soon  as  the  fleet  is  out  at  sea,  no  land  *<> 
In  sight,  only  the  water  and  the  sky, 
A  murky  tempest  gathers  overhead, 
With  rain  and  darkness  thick.  The  waves  grow  black. 
The  pilot  Palinurus  shouts  astern  : 
"  Zounds  !  how  the  clouds  are  gathering  for  a  storm  ! 
What  hast  thou,  father  Neptune,  in  the  wind  ?  " 
Thus  spake,  and  bade  the  seamen  reef  the  sails, 
And  pull  with  steady  stroke.    Close  to  the  wind 
He  hauled,  and  thus  called  out :    "  Though  Jove 
himself, 

^Eneas,  were  my  sponsor  for  the  risk,  '° 

I  should  not  hope  in  weather  such  as  this 

To  make  the  coast  of  Italy.    The  wind 

Has  changed,  and  blows  a  gale  across  our  course 

Out  of  the  threatening  west.    The  heavens  are  one 


134 


THE  .ENEID. 


Thick  cloud.    No  use  for  us  against  the  wind 
To  pull,  nor  can  we  hold  our  own.    Bad  luck ! 
But  let  us  make  the  best  of  it,  and  where 
It  forces  us,  there  turn  and  go.    Nor  far, 
If  memory  serve  me  right  as  I  review 
Our  bearings  by  the  stars,  are  we,  I  think, 
From  Eryx'  safe  fraternal  shore,  the  ports 
Of  Sicily."    Pious  ^neas  back  : 
"  Ay,  ay !  I  see  the  winds  will  have  it  so, 
And  thou  art  battling  them  in  vain.    Give  way. 
And  run  before  the  gale.    No  sweeter  land 
I  know,  or  where  more  willingly  I  beach 
My  weary  keels,  than  where  of  Trojan  stock 
Acestes  dwells,  and  in  whose  soil  are  laid 
My  sire  Anchises'  bones."    Soon  as  he  speaks, 
They  make  for  harbor,  while  the  west  wind  fills 
Their  sails  and  helps  them  on.    Over  the  tide 
The  fleet  rides  swift,  and  merrily  at  last 
The  sailors  leap  on  the  familiar  shore. 

While  yet  afar,  from  off  the  mountain  top 
Acestes,  in  surprise  to  see  them  come 
And  heave  in  sight  their  friendly  craft,  all  rough 
With  javelins  and  in  Libyan  bear-skin  frock, 
Came  running  down.    A  Trojan  mother  him 
Gave  birth,  his  sire  the  stream  Crimisus.  He, 
Remembering  well  their  common  ancestry, 
Heartily  glad  to  see  them  back  again, 
His  rustic  hospitality  extends. 
And  cheers  fatigue  with  kindly  courtesies. 

Soon  as  the  morrow's  sun  at  early  dawn 
Had  put  the  stars  to  flight,  ^neas  called 


BOOK  V. 


135 


His  men  to  council  from  along  the  shore 

And  spake  them  from  a  knoll :    "  Heroic  men 

Of  Trojan  stock,  who  from  the  exalted  blood 

Of  gods  descend,  the  circle  of  the  year 

Is  rounded  to  a  month,  since  we  to  earth  ^° 

My  sainted  father's  bones  and  relics  gave, 

And  paid  our  mournful  honors  to  his  tomb. 

Once  more,  unless  I  err,  the  day  hath  come 

Which,  by  the  blessing  of  the  gods,  I  keep 

In  sorrow  and  in  reverence  evermore. 

Though  me  an  exile  on  Gaetulian  sands 

It  find,  or  on  the  Grecian  sea  embayed, 

Or  in  Mycenae's  walls,  still  will  I  pay 

My  annual  vows,  and  solemn  obsequies 

And  strew  the  altars  with  befitting  gifts.  70 

Not  of  ourselves,  meseems,  but  by  the  will 

And  blessing  of  the  gods,  revisit  we 

The  bones  and  ashes  of  my  father  here 

And  enter,  off  our  course,  this  friendly  port. 

Come  then,  him  let  us  all  glad  honors  pay,  75 

And  beg  for  breezes  fair ;  and  may  it  be 

His  will  that,  when  our  city  stands,  each  year 

In  temples  raised  to  him,  I  offer  there 

The  selfsame  reV-erent  rites.    Acestes,  born 

Of  Trojan  stock,  two  head  of  oxen  gives  ^ 

To  every  crew.    Our  host  Acestes'  gods. 

Bid  to  your  feast  together  with  your  own. 

Moreo'er  when,  nine  days  hence,  Aurora  sheds 

Her  happy  light  on  mortals,  and  enwreathes 

The  great  globe  with  her  beams,  I  will  appoint,  85 

First,  races  for  the  Trojan  boats,  and  then 


136 


THE  ^NEID. 


Let  all,  whoe'er  is  swift  of  foot,  who  boasts 

His  strength,  who  best  can  hurl  the  javelin, 

Or  the  light  arrow  shoot,  and  who  dares  stand 

The  buffet  of  the  bloody  boxing-glove,  90 

Be  present  there  and  hope  to  win  the  prize 

Of  victory.    With  happy  voices  all 

Attend,  and  wreathe  your  temples  round  with  leaves." 

So  spake,  and  with  his  mother's  myrtle  bound 
His  head.  Alike  Acestes,  full  of  years,  9s 
And  the  mere  lad  Ascanius  wreathed  their  brows. 
And  Elymus,  and  all  the  people  there. 
Forth  from  the  council  mid  the  multitude 
He  marched  the  vast  procession  to  the  tomb. 
There  the  libation  duly  made,  and  poured 
Two  cups  of  wine  upon  the  ground,  two  cups 
Of  milk,  two  cups  of  consecrated  blood, 
Strewed  on  it  flowers  of  rich  dark  hues,  and  cried : 
"  Hail,  sainted  parent !  hail  again  ye  ghost 
And  soul  and  ashes  of  my  father,  whom 
In  vain  I  hither  bore,  since  'twas  not  mine 
That  thou  should'st  reach  with  me  the  Italian  strand, 
The  fated  land,  the  Tiber,  be  that  where 
In  Italy  it  may  !  "    Scarce  spake  he  thus. 
When,  gliding  from  the  bottom  of  the  shrine, 
A  huge  and  glossy  snake  its  seven  great  folds 
Drew  seven  times  round  the  tomb  in  gentle  curves, 
Then  softly  glided  through  the  altars'  midst. 
Its  back  was  marked  with  purple  rings,  its  scales 
Glistened  with  spots  that  shone  like  gold.  So  draws  "s 
The  rainbow  from  the  sun  athwart  the  clouds 
A  thousand  intermingling  hues.    Dazed  stood 


BOOK  V. 


137 


^neas  at  the  sight.    It  wound  its  endless  length 
At  last  along  the  smooth  cups  and  the  bowls, 
Tasted  the  food,  then,  harming  none,  returned  "° 
Down  to  the  bottom  of  the  tomb,  and  left 
The  altars  it  had  fed  upon.    For  this  the  more 
^neas  urges  on  the  rites  begun 
In  honor  of  his  father,  doubting  much 
Whether  it  be  the  genius  of  the  place  "S 
Or  some  attendant  of  his  sire.    Five  sheep. 
Each  two  years  old,  with  solemn  rites  he  kills. 
And  swine,  and  black-backed  bulls  as  many  more ; 
Pours  bowls  of  wine ;  and  great  Anchises'  soul, 
His  spirit  back  from  Acheron,  invokes.  ^30 
So,  too,  his  followers,  each  whate'er  he  can. 
Their  offerings  gladly  pay.    Some  load  the  shrines, 
And  slaughter  bulls ;  while  some  the  kettles  set 
In  rows.    Or  stretched  upon  the  turf,  they  rake 
The  coals  beneath  the  spits,  and  broil  the  chop.  '35 
And  now  the  expected  hour  had  come ;  the  steeds 
Of  Phaethon  sped  in  the  cloudless  dawn 
Of  the  ninth  day.    The  rumor  of  the  thing, 
And  brave  Acestes'  name,  had  gathered  there 
All  who   lived  near;  the  shores  were  lined  with 
throngs 

Of  happy  folk  the  Trojans  for  to  see. 
And  ready  some  themselves  to  take  a  hand. 
Especially  before  all  eyes  were  ranged 
The  prizes  in  the  centre  of  a  ring,  — 
Wreaths  of  green  leaves,  and  palms  of  victory, 
And  sacred  tripods,  arms,  and  purple  robes, 
And  many  a  heap  of  gold  and  silver  coins. 


138 


THE  .ENEID. 


A  trumpet  from  a  central  summit  sounds 
The  signal  of  the  opening  of  the  games. 

Selected  out  from  all  the  fleet,  four  boats,  ^so 
Stout-oared  and  fairly  matched,  begin  the  sport. 
Mnestheus  swift  Pristis  starts  with  a  smart  crew  — 
Italian  Mnestheus  afterwards,  whose  name 
Doth  linger  in  the  house  of  Memmius  still. 
Gyas  the  great  Chimaera  starts,  its  size  ^ss 
Enormous,  big  enough  to  float  a  town : 
The  Trojan  youth  row  it  in  triple  tiers. 
Sergestus,  whence  the  Sergian  family. 
In  the  great  Centaur  sits ;  Cloanthus, —  whence, 
Cluentius,  thou, —  in  sky-blue  Scylla's  stern. 

Straight  off  the  foam-dashed  shore,  just  out  at  sea 
Rises  a  rock  ;  great  waves  sweep  over  it 
And  lash  it  ever  when  the  winter  storms 
Enshroud  the  stars.    In  weather  fair  it  sleeps, 
Its  broad  back  lifted  like  a  plain  above 
The  ocean's  calm,  whereon  the  water-fowl 
Delight  to  rest  them,  basking  in  the  sun. 
On  this  Mneas,  master  of  the  games. 
Sets  up  the  goal,  a  green  and  bushy  bough 
Of  oak  to  tell  the  oarsmen  when  to  turn,  »7<» 
Where  the  wide  circuit  to  begin  to  make. 
Their  places  then  the  captains  choose  by  lot. 
Standing  astern,  they  in  the  distance  seem 
Ablaze,  tricked  out  in  purple  and  in  gold  ; 
While  all  the  crew  are  crowned  with  poplar  leaves,  ^7b 
Their  naked  shoulders  shining  glossed  with  oil. 
They  sit  the  thwarts,  their  arms  outstretched  to  poise 
The  oar.    Eager  they  wait  the  sign  to  go  : 


BOOK  V. 


139 


The  hazard  and  the  ardent  thirst  to  win 
Set  every  heart  aleap  and  high  with  hope. 

Then  when  the  ringing  trumpet  gives  the  sound, 
Quick  as  a  flash  all  shoot  out  from  the  line. 
Up  goes  the  sailors'  cry.    Their  stout  arms  pull 
A  stroke  that  leaves  the  water  tossed  with  foam. 
Alike  they  cleave  their  way,  and  the  whole  sea 
Swashes,  ploughed  by  the  oars  and  trident  beaks. 
Not  swifter,  when  they  race  across  the  plain. 
Rushing  like  torrents  from  the  starting  place. 
Do  two-horse  chariots  fly,  the  charioteers 
Shaking  above  their  teams  the  slackened  reins 
And  leaning  forward  to  lay  on  the  lash. 
The  people  make  the  whole  grove  ring  with  shouts 
And  clap  of  hands,  and  cheer  their  favorites. 
The  narrow  shores  far  onward  roll  the  sound, 
And  back  the  echoing  hills  the  clamor  fling.  '95 
'Tis  Gyas  leads,  first  on  the  open  sea 
To  glide  and  leave  the  din  and  crowd  behind. 
Cloanthus  follows,  with  a  better  oar, 
But  with  a  craft  of  over-heavy  pine. 
Next  them,  Pristis  and  Centaur,  side  by  side,  200 
Strain  each  to  get  the  lead.    Now  Pristis  wins : 
Now  the  huge  Centaur  leaves  her  in  the  lurch  : 
And  now  together  beak  and  beak  they  go. 
And  in  long  furrows  cleave  the  briny  deep. 

'Tis  as  they  near  the  rock  and  reach  the  goal,  205 
That  Gyas  well  ahead,  victorious  now 
The  first  half  of  the  race,  Menoetes  hails, 
The  pilot  of  his  boat :  "  Why  dost  thou  keep 
To  starboard  so  ?    Sheer  up,  hug  close  to  shore, 


140 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  let  the  larboard  oar-blades  graze  the  rock !  210 

The  rest  may  have  the  sea-room  if  they  want." 

He  thus  :  but  timorous  of  the  lurking  reefs, 

Menoetes  turns  the  bow  still  out  to  sea. 

"  Why  wilt  thou  keep  her  off,  Menoetes  ?  hug 

The  rocks !  "  yells  Gyas  yet  again ;  for,  lo  !  215 

He  turns  and  sees  Cloanthus  close  astern 

And  keeping  nearer  in.    'Twixt  Gyas'  boat  • 

And  the  rocks'  roaring  edge  Cloanthus  steers 

To  larboard,  well  inside,  then  suddenly. 

The  leader  led,  into  smooth  water  glides  "o 

And  leaves  the  goal  behind.    Burned  Gyas  then 

Down  to  his  very  bones  with  speechless  rage, 

Nor  could  he  keep  his  cheeks  from  tears,  nay  e'en 

Forgot  his  rank,  the  safety  of  his  crew, 

And  pitched  the  ass  Menoetes  from  the  stern  ^25 

Head-foremost  overboard,  and  took  himself 

The  helm ;  pilot  and  master  both,  he  cheered 

The  men  and  turned  the  rudder  to  the  shore. 

Meantime  Menoetes,  rather  old  and  stiff. 

Up  bobbing  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  —  230 

It  almost  seemed  he  ne'er  would  rise  again,  — 

His  garments  soaked  and  dripping,  clambered  up 

The  rock,  and  sat  and  sunned  him  on  its  top. 

The  Trojans  laughed  when  down  he  went,  and  laughed 

When  up  he  came,  and  now  they  laughed  still  more,  235 

As  he  threw  up  his  bellyful  of  brine. 

At  this,  a  glad  hope  fires  the  hindmost  two, 
Both  Mnestheus  and  Sergestus,  to  outstrip 
The  crippled  Gyas  lagging  in  their  front. 
Sergestus  takes  the  lead  and  nears  the  rock,  240 


BOOK  V. 


Not  a  whole  length  ahead,  only  in  part. 

The  rival  Pristis  laps  him  with  her  beak. 

Straight  through  his  boat  goes  Mnestheus  mid  his  men 

With  words  of  cheer :  "  Now,  now,  spring  to  your  oars. 

Hector's  compatriots,  whom,  when  Ilium  fell,  245 

I  made  my  comrades  !    Now  put  forth  the  nerve, 

The  pluck  ye  on  Gaetulian  quicksands  showed. 

The  Ionian  sea,  or  Malea's  chopping  waves ! 

I,  Mnestheus,  seek  not  now  to  win  first  place. 

Or  conquer  certainty.  Would,  though,  .  .  .  !  but  win  ^so 

Let  them,  to  whom  thou,  Neptune,  giv'st  to  win. 

But  shame  be  on  us  if  we  come  in  last : 

Such  a  disgrace  avert,  companions  mine, 

And  let  it  not  be  ours ! "    With  all  their  might 

They  pull :  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke,  the  boat  255 

Shivers  from  brazen  beak  to  stern.    The  sea 

Seems  swept  from  underneath.    Panting  for  breath, 

Their  muscles  quiver  and  their  parching  lips  : 

Rivers  of  sweat  down  all  their  faces  run. 

Sheer  luck  secures  the  men  the  boon  they  crave. 
For  while  Sergestus,  on  the  inner  side. 
Loses  his  head,  keeps  sheering  towards  the  rocks. 
And  risks  the  lack  of  room  enough,  he  grounds. 
Poor  devil,  on  the  out-running  reefs,  that  seem 
To  shiver  with  the  shock ;  the  oars  snap  short,  ^65 
Entangled  in  the  jagged  rifts  j  the  boat 
Hangs  swinging  from  the  bow.    Up  spring  the  men 
In  such  an  uproar  they  but  make  it  worse. 
They  get  out  iron-bound  poles  and  sharpened  stakes, 
And  from  the  water  cull  their  broken  oars  : 
While  Mnestheus  who  exults,  and  whom  success 


142 


THE  ^NEID. 


More  eager  makes  to  win,  with  quickened  stroke, 

The  winds  invoking,  rides  an  easy  course 

And  runs  along  the  open  sea.    So  doth 

Some  dove  whose  nest  and  tender  fledgelings  lurk  275 

Beneath  the  cliffs,  affrighted  suddenly, 

Dart  from  its  shelter,  springing  towards  the  fields, 

And  terror-struck  about  its  covert  beat 

With  noisy  flapping  of  its  wings,  but  soon 

Through  the  still  ether  glides  along,  and  skims  ^so 

Its  liquid  way,  its  swift  wings  motionless. 

So  Mnestheus,  so  the  Pristis  cleaves  her  flight 

Over  the  homeward  stretch,  while  e'en  her  own 

Momentum  speeds  her  on  her  course.    At  once 

She  leaves  behind  Sergestus,  on  the  reef  ^^s 

And  in  the  shallows  struggling,  where  in  vain 

He  bawls  for  help  and  tries  to  work  his  way 

With  broken  oars ;  next  Gyas  overtakes, 

And  huge  Chimaera,  which,  of  pilot  reft. 

Falls  back.    Just  at  the  race's  end  is  left  ^90 

None  but  Cloanthus  in  her  path,  and  him 

She  seeks,  and  presses  hard  with  every  nerve 

Strained  to  the  last.    The  shouts  redouble  then. 

While  everybody  cheers  the  gaining  boat. 

And  the  air  rings  with  thunders  of  applause. 

The  winners  fire  at  thought  of  losing  now 

The  glory  almost  theirs,  the  prize  just  grasped, 

And  count  life  nothing  if  but  fame  be  won. 

Success  inspires  the  others ;  and  they  can. 

Because  they  feel  they  can.    And  possibly  300 

They  both  had  won  the  prize,  with  beak  to  beak. 

Had  not  Cloanthus,  stretching  both  his  hands 


BOOK  V. 


143 


Above  the  tide,  burst  forth  in  prayer  and  begged 

The  gods  to  hearken  to  his  vows :    "  Ye  gods, 

Whose  empire  is  the  sea,  whose  waves  I  cross,  30s 

Upon  this  shore  a  snow  white  bull  will  I, 

My  vows  redeeming,  sacrifice  to  you, 

Its  entrails  cast  into  the  ocean's  brink, 

And  pour  the  flowing  wine."    He  spake :  far  down 

In  lowest  deeps,  the  choir  of  Nereids  all,  310 

Of  Phorcus  and  of  virgin  Panopea, 

Gave  heed :  father  Portunus  with  his  own 

All  powerful  hand  impelled  him  on  his  way. 

Swifter  than  wind  or  arrow's  flight,  the  boat 

Sped  to  the  land,  and  harbored  close  to  shore.  315 

^neas  then,  all  summoned  in  due  form, 
The  herald  loud  proclaiming  it,  declares 
Cloanthus  victor,  laying  on  his  brow 
The  wreath  of  laurel  green.    Gifts  to  each  crew 
He  gives,  choice  of  three  bulls  apiece,  and  wine,  320 
And  a  great  coin  of  silver  for  to  keep. 
He  to  the  captains  special  honors  adds. 
The  victor  gets  a  scarf  inwrought  with  gold, 
Round  which  the  Melibaean  purple  run-s, 
A  rich  and  double  border :  there  you  see,  3*5 
Inwoven  in  its  threads,  the  royal  boy 
On  leafy  Ida,  eager,  out  of  breath, 
As  the  swift  stags  with  chase  and  spear  he  tires ; 
The  eagle,  Jove's  swift  thunder-bearer,  drags 
Him  up  from  Ida,  while  all  helplessly  33« 
His  aged  keepers  stretch  their  hands  to  heaven, 
And,  glaring  up,  the  watch-dogs  fiercely  howl. 
To  him  whose  pluck  secured  the  second  place, 


144 


THE  ^NEID. 


He  gives,  to  keep  for  ornament  as  well 

As  use  on  battle  fields,  a  coat  of  mail  33S 

Fine-wrought  with  rings  of  gold  of  triple  ply, 

Which  he  himself,  'neath  Ilium's  lofty  walls, 

By  Simois  swift  stream,  from  Demoleus 

In  victory  stripped.    Phegeus  and  Sagaris, 

Slaves  they,  whose  shoulders  bend  beneath  the  load,  340 

Scarce  lug  its  many  folds  :  yet  Demoleus, 

Once  clothed  in  it,  the  Trojans  chased  like  sheep. 

The  third  he  gives  two  caldrons  made  of  brass. 

And  cups  of  silver  wrought,  with  figures  bossed. 

Rewarded  thus,  each  happy  in  his  prize,  34S 
They  now  were  moving  on,  their  temples  wreathed 
With  scarlet  knots,  when  from  the  cruel  rock 
Torn  with  great  toil  at  last,  oars  lost,  one  tier 
Quite  gone,  came  steering  his  derided  boat 
Sergestus,  with  no  feather  in  his  cap.  35° 
'Twas  like  a  snake  caught  half  across  a  road, 
O'er  which  a  brazen  wheel  hath  run,  or  which 
Some  traveller  late  hath  left  half-dead  and  crushed 
Under  a  stone  flung  heavily :  in  vain 
It  tries  to  fly,  and  writhes  through  all  its  length ;  35s 
In  one  part  fierce,  its  eyes  ablaze,  it  lifts 
Its  arched  neck  high  and  hisses,  while  the  rest. 
Retarded  by  the  wound,  delays  it  there 
Inknotting  knots  and  twisting  round  itself. 
With  such  a  stroke  the  lumbering  boat  comes  on:  3«* 
Yet  they  make  sail,  and  enter  port  with  all 
Their  canvas  up.    Glad  that  the  boat  is  saved. 
The  men  brought  safely  back,  -^neas  grants 
Sergestus  the  reward  intended  him 


BOOK  V. 


Who  came  in  fourth.    He  gets  a  woman  slave,  365 
Skilful  to  weave  and  spin,  Cretan  by  birth, 
Named  Pholoe,  two  young  ones  at  her  breast. 

This  trial  done,  pious  ^neas  leads 
The  way  into  a  grassy  lield,  whose  slopes 
On  every  side  are  fringed  around  with  woods.  370 
Midway  the  enclosure  of  this  theatre 
Is  the  race-course.    Thither  the  hero  strides 
Into  the  centre  of  the  pit,  a  crowd 
Of  people  following  him,  and  on  a  throne 
Sits  down.    He  sets  the  prizes  forth,  and  tempts  375 
With  rich  rewards  the  rivalry  of  those 
Who  care  to  try  their  speed.    The  Trojans  most. 
But  some  Sicilians,  enter  for  the  race ; 
But  foremost  Nisus  and  Euryalus  : 
Euryalus  distinguished  for  his  grace  380 
Of  figure  and  the  suppleness  of  youth  ; 
Nisus,  because  so  tenderly  he  loved 
The  boy.    Next  after  them  Diores  comes, 
Of  royal  blood  and  Priam's  noble  stock : 
Salius  and  Patron  enter  both  at  once,  38s 
Native  of  Acarnania  was  the  one, 
The  other  an  Arcadian  and  akin 
To  the  Tegeaean  race.    Then  Elymus 
And  Panopes,  two  youths  of  Sicily, 
Used  to  the  woods,  and  old  Acestes'  friends ;  390 
And  many  more  whose  fame  oblivion  long 
Has  blotted  out.    ^neas  in  their  midst 
Thus  counsels  them  :  "  Hear  what  I  say,  and  give 
Your  hearty  heed.    None  of  your  list  shall  go, 
And  not  some  token  have.    To  all  give  I  395 

10 


14.6 


THE  yENEID. 


One  common  gift  to  take  away  — to  each 

Two  Cretan  darts  with  broad  and  shining  heads, 

A  battle-axe  with  silver  chasing  wrought. 

The  first  three  shall  have  prizes,  and  their  brows 

The  yellow  olive-leaf  shall  crown.    A  horse,  400 

With  trappings  decked,  the  victor  shall  receive  ; 

The  next  an  Amazonian  quiver,  filled 

With  Thracian  arrows,  shoulder-slung  with  broad 

Gold  belt,  and  caught  with  gemmed  and  flashing  clasp. 

The  third  with  this  Greek  helm  must  be  content."  405 

This  said,  they  stand  in  line  and,  quick  as  heard 
The  signal,  snatch  the  track  and  like  a  blast 
Sweep  from  the  start,  their  eyes  upon  the  goal. 
Nisus,  ahead  and  gleaming  past  them  all, 
Runs  swifter  than  the  wind  or  lightning's  wings.  4io 
Salius  is  next,  but  next  a  good  way  off. 
Then  after  him,  but  with  a  space  between, 
Euryalus  is  third,  while  Elymus 
Is  next  Euryalus  :  and  close  on  him. 
Pressing  his  shoulder,  lo  !  Diores  flies,  415 
And  grazes  heel  on  heel,  and,  had  the  course 
Been  longer,  had  outstripped  him,  or  had  left 
The  outcome  of  the  race  a  doubtful  thing. 

Already  on  the  homeward  stretch,  they  neared 
The  very  limit  of  the  race,  well  blown,  420 
When  luckless  Nisus  slipped  upon  an  ooze 
Of  blood,  that  flowing  from  a  slaughtered  bull 
Had  puddled  on  the  ground  and  the  green  grass. 
Already  counting  on  sure  victory  now 
The  soldier  staggered  there,  and  could  not  keep  425 
His  foot-hold  on  the  sward,  but  headlong  fell 


BOOK  V. 


Into  the  mud  and  consecrated  gore. 

Yet  then  he  thought  him  of  Euryalus, 

And  of  the  love  they  did  each  other  bear : 

For  rising  from  the  slippery  turf,  he  threw  430 

Himself  in  front  of  Salius,  who  went  down, 

Turned  topsy-turvy  mid  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Euryalus  shoots  by,  and  victor  wins 

By  favor  of  his  comrade,  flying  home 

Amid  the  cheers  and  plaudits  of  his  friends.  ■♦ss 

Next  Elymus  :  third  prize  Diores  gets. 

But  Salius  now  vs^ith  outcries  fills  the  pit 

Right  in  the  faces  of  the  elder  men, 

And  claims  the  prize  should  be  restored  to  him, 

Robbed  of  it  by  a  trick.    But  favor  saves  44c 

Euryalus,  and  his  becoming  tears. 

His  merit  heightened  by  his  handsome  face. 

Diores  helps  him,  bawling  at  the  top 

Of  his  hoarse  voice,  for  all  in  vain  won  he 

A  prize,  or  came  in  for  the  last  reward,  44s 

If  the  first  honors  unto  Salius  go. 

Then  spake  father  ^neas  :  "  Boys,  your  gifts 

Stand  as  they  are,  and  no  one  shall  disturb 

The  order  of  the  prizes  ;  yet  I  must 

My  friend's  mishap  —  no  fault  of  his  —  regard."  450 

So  spake,  and  unto  Salius  gave  a  huge 

Gaetulian  lion-skin,  heavy  with  shag 

And  claws  with  gilded  tips.    But  Nisus  said : 

"  If  such  the  honor  of  defeat,  and  thou 

Tak'st  pity  on  a  slip,  what  gift  hast  then  455 

Worthy  of  Nisus,  who  had  merited 

The  victor's  crown,  had  not  the  same  mishap 


14-8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Befallen  him  that  Salius  did  befall." 

And  as  he  spake  he  showed  them  all  his  face 

And  figure  daubed  with  mire.    On  him  the  best  460 

Of  patrons  smiled,  and  bade  be  brought  a  shield, 

The  workmanship  of  Didymaon,  wrenched 

From  some  Greek  Neptune's  temple  gate.    With  this 

Excelling  gift  he  marked  the  soldier's  worth. 

The  races  over,  and  the  honors  given,  465 
"  Now  if  there  be  in  any  breast  the  heart 
To  dare  and  do,  let  him  stand  forth,  and  lift 
His  arms  to  put  the  gauntlets  on,"  he  says. 
And  makes  the  offer  of  a  double  prize : 
To  him  who  wins,  a  bull  with  gilded  horns  470 
And  garlanded,  —  to  comfort  him  who  yields, 
A  sword  and  shining  helm.    Quick  striding  up 
With  blustering  show  of  strength,  comes  Dares  forth 
Amid  the  people's  loud  applause.    He  used 
To  box  with  Paris ;  at  great  Hector's  tomb  475 
On  the  dun  beach  he  struck  and  stretched  in  death 
The  giant  victor  Butes,  who  was  wont 
To  boast  that  he  was  kin  to  Amycus 
Of  the  Bebrycian  stock.    Such  Dares  is, 
As  loftily  the  challenger  he  stalks,  480 
Bares  his  broad  shoulders,  striking  out  his  arms 
Alternately,  and  beats  the  air  with  blows. 
They  seek  a  match  for  him,  but  no  one  there 
Dares  meet  the  man  or  don  the  boxing-gloves. 
Set  up  at  this,  thinking  all  yield  the  palm,  4S5 
He  swaggers  up  before  Eneas'  feet, 
Nor  waiting  grasps  the  left  horn  of  the  bull. 
And  roars :    "  Son  of  a  goddess  !  if  none  dare 


Tbe  Boxer. 
Caiiova  —  Vatican 


BOOK  V. 


149 


To  risk  him  in  the  fight,  then  end  the  thing! 
What  use  to  keep  me  dawdling  here  ?    Bid  me  490 
Bear  off  the  prize  !  "     The  Trojans  all  applaud, 
And  shout  to  let  him  have  the  promised  gifts. 

At  this  Acestes  taunts  Entellus  hard, 
As  he  sits  next  him  on  the  greensward  bank : 
"  Entellus,  bravest  of  our  heroes  once,  495 
But  to  no  use,  if  now  so  patiently 
Thou  see'st  such  honors  won  without  a  fight ! 
Where  now  for  us  that  godlike  Eryx,  whom 
Thou  vainly  dost  thy  master  call  ?    Or  where 
Thy  fame  that  rang  throughout  all  Sicily,  500 
The  trophies  hanging  from  thy  roof?"    He  quick 
Replied :  "  Not  cowed  by  fear  hath  fled  the  love 
Of  praise,  the  hope  of  glory ;  but  the  blood 
Grows  dull  and  chill  with  stiff  old-age,  and  life 
Wears  out  and  leaves  the  body  frozen  up.  50s 
Had  I  the  youth  which  once  was  mine,  and  which 
This  swashing  rascal  boasts,  I  had  gone  in 
Unhired  by  prize  or  bull  however  fine ; 
I  value  not  the  gifts."  As  thus  he  spake, 
He  shied  two  monstrous  gauntlets  in  the  ring,  510 
In  which  grim  Eryx  used  to  fight,  his  arms 
Encased  within  the  tough  raw-hide.    All  stand 
Agape  at  seven  huge  ox-hides  stiff  with  lead 
And  iron  sewed  inside  —  nobody  more 
Than  Dares,  who  keeps  well  aloof.    E'en  brave  s^s 
^neas  tries  their  weight,  and  to  and  fro 
He  swings  the  gauntlets'  monstrous  folds,  until 
The  old  man  thus  addresses  him  :    "  What  if 
A  man  of  you  the  guantlets  and  the  arms 


THE  iENEID. 


Of  Hercules  had  seen,  or  that  sad  fight  520 
On  this  same  shore  !    Thy  brother  Eryx  once 
Used  wear  these  very  gloves :  thou  see'st  them  marked 
With  blood  and  bits  of  broken  heads  :  in  these 
He  stood  before  great  Hercules.    These  arms 
Used  I  to  wield  when  younger  blood  gave  strength,  525 
Nor  envious  age  as  yet  grew  thin -and  gray 
Above  my  temples.    Still,  if  these  our  gloves 
Your  Trojan  Dares  shirks,  if  it  seems  fair 
To  good  ^neas,  if  Acestes  bids 
And  takes  the  risk,  then  let  our  armor  be  sso 
The  same.    I  yield  thee  Eryx'  hides.    Fear  not, 
But  put  thyself  thy  Trojan  gauntlets  off." 
Thus  as  he  spake  he  threw  his  folded  robe 
From  off  his  shoulders,  and  displayed  his  limbs 
Huge-jointed  and  his  bones  and  sinews  huge  :  535 
Giant  he  stood  mid-centre  of  the  ring. 

^neas  then  brings  boxing-gloves  alike. 
And  binds  the  hands  of  both  with  equal  arms. 
Each  leans  at  once  his  weight  upon  his  toes, 
And  fearless  keeps  his  guard  well  up  in  air.  540 
They  hold  their  tall  heads  back  at  good  arm's  length, 
And  sparring  hand  to  hand  provoke  the  fight. 
One  nimble  on  his  feet  and  confident 
In  youth,  the  other  strong  of  limb  and  weight 
While  yet  his  weak  and  trembling  knees  give  way,  54s 
And  his  hard  panting  makes  his  great  limbs  quake. 
Many  the  blows  they  give  and  take  unhurt. 
Each  other's  ribs  they  pummel,  and  you  hear 
Their  sides  ring  back  again  ;  incessantly 
The  fist  is  at  their  temples  and  their  ears,  550 


BOOK  V. 


Their  teeth  a-chatter  with  the  stinging  blows. 

Stiff  stands  Entellus  in  one  posture  fixed, 

And  only  by  his  guard  and  eyes  alert 

Wards  off  the  blows.    The  other  is  like  one 

Who  batters  with  the  enginery  of  war  sss 

Some  lofty  citadel,  or  camps  about 

Some  mountain  keep  besieging  it :  now  this, 

Now  that  approach  he  tries,  o'er  the  whole  field 

His  skill  essays,  and  every  point  assaults, 

But  all  in  vain.    At  last,  Entellus  springs,  560 

Strikes  from  the  shoulder,  but  betrays  his  hand, 

For  instantly  the  other  sees  the  blow 

As  down  it  comes,  and  with  a  sudden  swerve 

Glides  quick  aside.    Entellus  spends  his  strength 

Upon  the  air,  and,  heavy  as  he  is,  565 

Hurls  heavily  to  earth  his  ponderous  weight. 

Torn  from  its  roots,  so  sometimes  falls  the  pine 

On  Erymanthus'  top  or  Ida's  heights. 

All  Troy  and  Sicily  are  up,  and  heaven 

The  echo  rings.    In  sympathy  of  years,  570 

Acestes  is  the  first  to  run  and  lift 

His  old  friend  from  the  ground.    But  at  his  fall 

Nor  checked  nor  made  afraid,  the  hero  springs 

More  zealous  to  the  fight ;  his  wrath  makes  nerve ; 

Shame  fires  his  heart,  and  consciousness  of  power,  s/s 

Maddened,  he  beats  down  Dares  till  he  reels 

About  the  ring :  he  hits  him  right  and  left 

Blow  after  blow.    No  rest  nor  let-up  more 

Than  when  the  incessant  hail  beats  on  the  roof : 

With  blows  as  rapid  rained  from  both  his  fists  sSu 

He  drives  and  batters  Dares  all  abroad. 


THE  ^NEID. 


At  this,  father  ^neas  suffers  not 
Their  heat  go  further,  nor  Entellus  feed 
His  fury  more,  but  ends  the  fight  at  once ; 
And  rescuing  Dares  utterly  knocked  up,  585 
With  these  words  comforts  him:  "Art  thou  so  mad 
As  not  to  see,  poor  fellow,  that  the  brawn 
Is  on  the  other  side,  and  fate  averse  ? 
Yield  to  the  gods."    He  spake,  and  at  his  word 
The  contest  ceased.    Dares  aboard  a  boat  59° 
His  boon  friends  help,  his  knees  so  weak  they  drag. 
His  head  lopped  either  way,  while  blood  in  clots 
He  spits,  and  with  it  now  and  then  a  tooth : 
Called  back,  they  take  the  helmet  and  the  sword, 
But  leave  Entellus  victory  and  the  bull.  S9S 
He,  conqueror  and  elate,  proud  of  his  bull, 
Cries  out :  "  Son  of  a  goddess,  and  ye  men 
Of  Troy,  now  look  on  this,  and  see  what  power 
Was  in  this  arm  of  mine  when  I  was  young ; 
And  rescued  from  what  death  ye  have  preserved 
Your  Dares  !  "    Thus  he  spake,  stood  face  to  face 
Before  the  bull  that  was  the  battle-gift. 
Drew  back  his  fist,  and  rising  to  the  blow 
Drove  the  tough  gauntlet  straight  betwixt  the  horns. 
And  stove  the  skull  into  the  oozing  brains. 
Down  goes  the  brute  and  quivering  there  lies  dead, 
While  he  stands  over  it  ana  shouts :  "  To  thee, 
Eryx,  I  speed  this  braver  soul,  in  lieu 
Of  Dares'  death.    This  my  last  victory  won 
I  bid  the  gauntlet  and  the  ring  good-bye." 

^neas  next  calls  all  who  wish  to  shoot 
The  whizzing  arrow,  sets  the  prizes  forth, 


BOOK  V. 


Erects  with  his  stout  hand  a  mast  from  out 

Serestus'  bark,  runs  through  its  top  a  rope, 

And  thence  suspends  a  fluttering  dove,  at  Vv^hich  ^^s 

To  aim  the  shafts.    The  archers  group  ;  a  helm 

Of  brass  receives  the  lot  that  each  casts  in. 

Unto  Hippocoon  the  first  place  falls, 

The  son  of  Hyrtacus,  who  shouts  with  joy. 

Him  Mnestheus  follows,  crowned  with  olive-wreaths, 

The  boat-race  who  but  now  had  won.    The  third 

Eurytion  is,  —  thy  brother,  Pandarus,  thou 

Whose  glory  'twas,  when  bid  to  break  the  truce, 

That  thou  against  the  Grecian  ranks  wert  first 

To  wing  thy  shaft.    At  bottom  of  the  helm, 

Acestes  lies  till  last,  not  he  afraid 

To  try  his  handcraft  in  the  youngsters'  sport. 

With  sturdy  pull  they  bend  the  arching  bow, 
Each  from  the  quiver  choosing  him  a  shaft. 
Then  from  the  twanging  string  and  through  the  air,  630 
The  arrow  of  the  young  Hippocoon 
Is  first  to  cleave  the  swift  wind,  as  it  strikes 
And  nails  the  mast,  that  trembles  while  the  dove 
In  terror  flutters,  and  all  rings  again 
With  thunders  of  applause.    Lithe  Mnestheus  next,  ^35 
His  bow  full  bent,  stands  up  and  aims  in  air. 
His  eye  and  arrow  one.    But,  pity  'tis. 
He  cannot  hit  the  pigeon  with  his  shaft, 
Yet  cuts  the  knot,  the  hempen  string  by  which 
Foot-tied  it  hung  suspended  from  the  mast :  ^40 
Free  to  the  winds  and  gathering  gloom  it  flies. 
Quick  then  Eurytion,  who  already  had 
His  arrow  fitted  and  his  bow  in  poise, 


154 


THE  ^NEID. 


While  yet  a  prayer  he  breathed  his  brother's  ghost, 

While  yet  the  dove  exulted  loosed  in  air,  ^45 

And  joyfully  did  flap  its  wings,  took  aim 

And  nailed  it  on  the  dark  cloud's  edge.    Shot  dead, 

Bringing  the  shaft  that  pierced  it,  down  it  fell. 

Its  life  abandoned  in  the  starry  skies. 

The  palm  of  victory  gone,  Acestes  sole  ^so 

Remained,  yet  none  the  less  the  old  man  shot 

His  arrow  up,  showing  alike  his  skill 

And  the  excellence  of  his  loud-twanging  bow. 

Then  sudden  flashed  upon  the  sight  a  sign 

Of  something  terrible  to  come.    The  great  ^ss 

Event  that  followed  taught  its  lesson  ;  all 

Too  late  the  boding  seers  the  omen  read. 

For  shooting  through  the  murky  clouds,  in  flames 

The  arrow  burst,  sparks  flashed  along  its  path, 

Till  burnt  it  faded  out  in  vacant  air,  660 

E'en  as  a  shooting  star  unloosed  from  heaven 

Sweeps  with  its  trail  of  fire  across  the  sky. 

Awe-struck  both  Trojans  and  Sicilians  stand. 

Prayers  trembling  on  their  lips.    The  mighty  man 

^neas  welcomes  it  as  sign  of  good,  ^^s 

Embraces  glad  Acestes,  loading  him 

With  generous  gifts,  and  thus  he  cries :    "  Take  them. 

Thou  patriarch,  for  by  these  auspices 

Olympus'  mighty  King  wills  thou  should'st  have 

Especial  honors.    Thine  shall  be  this  gift 

From  venerable  Anchises'  self  —  a  cup 

Chased  heavily,  that  Thracian  Cisseus  gave, 

Long  time  ago  in  his  munificence, 

Unto  my  sire  to  keep  in  memory 


BOOK  V. 


155 


And  pledge  of  friendship."  So  he  spake,  and  bound  ^75 

Acestes'  temples  with  the  laurel  green, 

And  named  him  victor  over  all  the  rest. 

Nor  good  Eurytion,  although  he  it  was 

Brought  down  the  bird,  begrudged  the  preference. 

The  next  prize  fell  to  him,  who  cut  the  string ; 

The  last,  who  with  his  swift  shaft  nailed  the  wood. 

Father  ^neas  next,  the  games  not  done, 
Calls  to  himself  the  son  of  Epytus, 
Tutor  of  young  lulus,  and  his  friend. 
And  whispers  thus  his  faithful  ear :  "  Go  quick,  ^85 
And  tell  Ascanius  thou,  if  now  he  hath 
His  band  of  boys  in  hand,  and  hath  arranged 
The  evolutions  of  his  cavalcade. 
To  bring  his  troops,  and  show  himself  in  arms, 
In  honor  of  his  grandsire."    Then  he  bids 
The  crowd  back  from  the  broad  arena  fall, 
And  leave  an  open  field.    The  boys  advance. 
Each  on  his  prancing  steed  is  glorious  there 
In  his  own  father's  eyes ;  and  as  they  move. 
All  Troy  and  Sicily  admire  and  shout.  ^95 
The  hair  of  each  is  garlanded  with  leaves ; 
Each  bears  two  javelins  tipped  with  iron  blades ; 
Part  have  light  quivers  on  the  shoulder,  held 
By  flexile  chains  of  gold  across  the  breast 
And  round  the  neck.    Three  troops  of  horse  they  go  7°° 
With  each  a  captain,  each  a  separate  troop 
Of  twelve  their  leader  following,  and  each  troop 
With  trainers  guiding  them.    One  youthful  line, 
Proud  of  their  chief,  doth  little  Priam  lead, 
Who  bears  his  grandsire's  name  —  thy  honored  son  705 


THE  iENEID. 


Polites,  yet  to  increase  the  Italian  race : 

He  rides  a  Thracian  horse,  dappled  with  white, 

Fore  fetlock  showing  white,  its  forehead  white, 

Its  neck  high  arched.    The  next,  young  Atys  leads  — 

From  whom  the  Latin  Atti  have  descent  —  710 

The  boy  lulus'  chosen  boyish  friend. 

And  last  lulus,  loveliest  shape  of  all. 

Comes  riding  in  upon  the  Tyrian  steed 

Fair  Dido  unto  him  in  memory  gave 

And  pledge  of  love.    Horses  of  Sicily,  715 

By  old  Acestes  lent,  the  others  mount. 

The  Trojans  with  a  hearty  welcome  greet 
The  excited  boys,  and  gaze  on  them  in  pride 
As  in  their  faces  they  recall  again 
The  features  of  their  sires.    Soon  as  they  ride,  720 
Full  of  delight  before  their  parent's  eyes, 
Around  the  ring,  the  son  of  Epytus, 
Who  stands  apart,  gives  with  a  shout  the  sign. 
And  cracks  his  whip.    They  equally  divide. 
And  the  two  squads  draw  off  in  ranks  of  three.  72s 
Signalled  again,  they  wheel  and  spear  to  spear 
Make  charge.    Now  they  advance,  and  now  they  fly. 
And  now,  each  by  the  other  flanked  in  turn. 
They  meet,  and  wage  mock  battle  under  arms. 
E'en  so  'tis  said  that  once  in  lofty  Crete  739 
The  Labyrinth  had  paths  made  intricate 
With  turns  obscure,  a  maze  that  lost  itself 
Amid  a  thousand  avenues,  where  you 
No  clew  could  follow  but  misled  the  way 
To  error  you  could  neither  solve  nor  cure.  73S 
So  'twas  the  Trojan  boys  crossed  in  and  out, 


BOOK  V. 


157 


And  mixed  the  sportive  conflict  and  the  flight, 

Like  dolphins,  swimming  through  the  deep,  that  cut 

The  Libyan  or  Carpathian  seas,  and  play 

Atop  the  waves.    Ascanius  'twas  who  first,  740 

When  Alba  Longa  he  had  walled  about. 

This  custom  of  the  course,  these  tournaments 

Revived,  and  taught  the  native  Latins  thus 

To  celebrate  them.    As  the  boy  himself 

Had  trained  with  him  the  Trojan  youth,  so  trained  745 

The  Albans  theirs.    Hence  down  so  many  years 

Has  mightiest  Rome  long  made  its  own  and  kept 

This  sport  our  fathers  honored,  now  called  Troy,  — 

The  boys  still  as  the  Trojan  Squadron  known. 

Thus  far  the  games  in  honor  of  the  sire  750 
Had  gone,  when  fortune,  changing  all  at  once. 
Broke  faith.    For  while  with  various  sports  they  pay 
Their  homage  at  the  tomb,  from  upper  air 
Saturnian  Juno,  moving  heaven  and  earth. 
The  old  wound  rankling  still,  sends  Iris  down  75s 
Where  lay  the  Trojan  fleet,  and  as  she  flies 
Wafts  her  still  quicker  with  the  wind.  Unseen, 
The  maiden  speeding  on  her  rapid  way 
Glints  down  the  rainbow's  thousand  hues.    She  darts 
Along  the  shore,  and  sees  the  mighty  crowd,  760 
The  port  deserted  and  the  abandoned  fleet. 
Far  off  apart  upon  the  lonely  beach 
The  Trojan  women  mourn  Anchises'  death, 
And  all  in  tears  look  out  upon  the  deep. 
One  sigh  on  every  lip,  because  for  them  t^s 
So  weary  yet  remain  so  many  shoals. 
So  wide  a  sea  to  cross.    They  beg  a  home  ; 


THE  .ENEID. 


It  irks  to  bear  the  perils  of  the  sea. 

She,  knowing  this  and  e'er  at  mischief  apt, 

Falls  in  with  them,  but  lays  aside  the  face  77° 

And  vesture  of  a  goddess,  and  becomes 

Thracian  Doryclus'  wife,  old  Beroe, 

Who  once  could  boast  descent  and  name  and  sons. 

Thus  guised,  she  mingles  with  the  Trojan  dames. 

"  Unhappy  ye,  "  she  cries,  "  whom  hand  of  Greek  775 

Dragged  not  to  death  in  war  beneath  the  walls 

Of  native  land  !  O  luckless  race,  what  course 

Doth  fortune  destine  you  !    Already  turns 

The  seventh  summer  since  the  fall  of  Troy, 

While  still  we  traverse  every  sea  and  shore,  780 

Sweep  past  so  many  savage  rocks  and  'neath 

So  many  stars,  and  o'er  the  ocean  chase 

An  Italy  that  flies  but  farther  yet. 

E'er  tossing  on  the  waves.    Here  is  the  soil 

Of  Eryx,  brother  of  our  chief,  and  here  785 

Acestes  welcomes  us.    Whose  ban  forbids 

We  here  raise  roofs  and  give  our  people  homes  ? 

Oh!  native  land,  gods  of  my  country,  vain 

Your  rescue  from  the  foe !    Shall  walls  ne'er  rise 

To  take  the  name  of  Troy?    Shall  I  behold  790 

Nowhere  a  Xanthus  and  a  Simoi's, 

Those  rivers  glorious  with  Hector's  fame  ? 

iSTay,  quick  with  me,  and  burn  the  accursed  boats  ! 

[n  sleep  the  prophetess  Cassandra's  ghost 

Appeared  and  gave  to  me  a  flaming  torch ;  79s 

Here  look  for  Troy  I   Here  is  your  home!  she  cried. 

E'en  now  waits  opportunity  on  will. 

And  when  so  many  signs  to  action  prompt. 


BOOK  V. 


159 


Let  naught  delay.    Lo  !  here  four  altars  flame 
To  Neptune's  praise.    The  very  god  himself 
The  torch,  the  resolution  ministers." 

While  yet  she  spake  she  led  the  way,  caught  up 
The  ruthless  brand,  and  wildly  round  her  head 
Whirled  it  aflash,  lifted  her  right  hand  high, 
And  flung  it  forth.    The  Trojan  women's  hearts 
Are  thrilled,  their  reason  overthrown :  and  one, 
Pyrgo,  the  eldest  of  them  and  so  long 
Nurse  of  king  Priam's  sons,  cries  out :  "  Ye  dames, 
Doryclus'  Trojan  wife  nor  Beroe 
Is  this  !    Behold  what  marks  of  grace  divine! 
How  glow  her  eyes  !  what  ecstasy  of  soul ! 
Her  look,  her  voice,  the  very  step  she  walks ! 
But  now  from  Beroe  myself  I  came 
And  left  her  sick,  unhappy  that  of  all 
She  only  could  not  share  these  rites  nor  pay  ^^s 
The  honors  to  Anchises  he  deserves." 

At  this  the  women,  doubtful  at  the  start, 
Began  to  scan  the  fleet  with  eyes  of  hate. 
Cleft  'twixt  their  hunger  for  the  land  they  trod 
And  for  the  realms  to  which  fate  beckoned  them  ;  ^^o 
When  through  the  sky  the  goddess  rose  aloft 
On  even  wing,  and  as. she  fled  drew  thwart 
The  clouds  her  bow  sublime.    Then  'tis  at  last. 
Bewildered  at  the  sight,  by  fury  driven. 
They  shriek,  snatch  from  the  sacred  hearth  its  fire,  ^25 
While  some  e'en  rob  the  altar,  and  collect 
Leaves,  brush,  and  brands.   The  flame  remorselessly 
Devours  bench,  oar,  and  wood-work  of  the  boats. 

Eumelus  is  the  messenger  that  tells 


i6o 


THE  tENEID. 


To  them  who  at  Anchises'  tomb  still  sit  830 

And  watch  the  games,  the  burning  of  the  boats. 

Nay,  they  look  back  and  see  the  black  smoke  rise 

And  mingle  in  the  haze.    Ascanius  there, 

While  yet  he  proudly  leads  the  tournament, 

Is  also  first  fiercely  to  speed  his  horse  835 

Into  the  very  riot  of  the  camp, 

Nor  can  the  frightened  trainers  keep  him  back. 

"  What  crazy  freak  is  this? "  he  cries.    "  Ye  gods ! 

What  drive  they  at,  the  fools  ?    No  foe,  no  camp 

Of  hostile  Greek,  but  your  own  hopes  ye  burn.  840 

Lo !  I  am  here,  your  own  Ascanius,  I." 

And  at  their  feet  from  off  his  head  he  throws 

The  idle  helm  that  in  the  mock  of  war 

He  lately  wore.    With  him  had  hastened  up 

^neas  and  a  throng  of  Trojans,  while, 

In  terror  scattering  all  along  the  shore. 

The  women  fly  and  hide  where'er  they  can 

Amid  the  woods  and  hollows  of  the  rocks, 

Ashamed  to  face  their  mischief  or  the  light. 

Restored  to  sense  they  recognize  their  friends,  ^5° 

Their  hearts  once  rid  of  Juno's  witchery. 

Yet  not  for  that  the  flames  and  fire  abate 

Their  savage  hold.    The  oakum  smoulders  still 

In  the  wet  planks,  and  puffs  a  lazy  smoke. 

The  subtle  blaze  clings  eating  at  the  hulks :  ^ss 

From  stem  to  stern  it  searches  like  a  plague ; 

Nor  human  might  nor  floods  of  water  serve. 

Pious  -^neas  then  throws  off  his  robe. 
Calls  on  the  gods  for  help  and  lifts  his  hands. 
"Almighty  Jupiter,  if  be  but  one  ^ 


BOOK  V. 


i6i 


Among  the  Trojans  that  thou  hatest  not, 
If  e'er  thy  pity  moved  at  human  woes, 
Grant  now,  O  Father,  that  the  fire  may  spare 
My  fleet,  and  save  the  httle  left  of  Troy 
From  utter  blot ;  or  else,  —  for  nothing  else 
Remains, — if  aught  I  merit,  strike  me  dead 
With  the  fell  thunderbolt,  and  with  thine  own 
Right  hand  destroy  me."    Scarce  he  spake  ere  burst 
The  thick  cloud  instantly  and  poured  in  rain,  ^7° 
While  hill  and  plain  with  thunders  shook,  and  down 
From  the  whole  heaven  gushed  forth  the  swollen  clouds 
That  blacker  grew  before  the  lowering  winds. 
The  boats  o'erflow ;  the  half-burnt  wood  is  soaked 
Till  all  the  fire  is  quenched,  and  every  keel,  ^7S 
Save  four  destroyed,  is  rescued  from  the  fire. 

Father  ^neas  then,  stunned  at  a  blow 
So  hard,  frets  at  his  heavy  load  of  care, 
And  shifts  from  plan  to  plan,  uncertain  still 
Whether  to  settle  on  Sicilian  soil, 
Reckless  of  fate,  or  tempt  the  Italian  coast. 
'Twas  then  old  Nautes,  whom  especially 
Tritonian  Pallas  had  trained  up,  and  made 
Famous  for  his  much  skill,  and  who  could  read 
What  meant  these  dread  inflictions  from  the  gods,  ^^s 
And  what  the  order  of  the  fates  required, 
Consoled  ^Eneas,  and  thus  spake  to  him : 
"  Son  of  a  goddess,  let  us  follow  fate, 
Or  it  lead  on  or  back !  /  Hap  what  hap  will, 
The  lot  is  always  beaten  that  is  borne.  890 
Dardan  Acestes,  sprung  from  gods,  is  near ; 
Do  thou  make  him  the  comrade  of  thy  thought; 
II 


l62 


THE  iENEID. 


League  thou  with  him  who  only  waits  the  word ; 
To  him  transfer  the  crews  whose  boats  are  burnt, 
Those,  too,  who  tire  them  of  thy  mighty  quest  ^95 
And  of  thy  fortunes,  and  the  aged  men 
And  women  faint  with  voyaging ;  separate 
Whoe'er  are  weak,  or  peril  fear  ;  here  let 
Their  weariness  find  rest,  and  they  shall  call 
The  town  Acesta,  if  Acestes  will."  900 

Urged  by  these  sayings  of  his  ancient  friend, 
A  thousand  cares  yet  vex  Eneas'  soul. 
Came  in  her  two-horse  car  the  sable  Night, 
And  veiled  the  sky.   Then  gliding  down  from  heaven, 
Seemed,  on  the  sudden,  sire  Anchises'  face  90s 
To  utter  words  like  these  :  "  My  son,  to  me 
Once  dearer  than  my  life,  when  life  was  mine ! 
My  son,  o'erburdened  with  the  fates  of  Troy  ! 
I  hither  come  at  Jove's  command,  who  tore 
The  fire  from  off  thy  fleet,  and  hath  at  last  910 
Looked  from  high  heaven  in  pity  down.  Pursue 
The  counsels  that  old  Nautes  hath  but  now 
So  excellently  given.    The  chosen  men. 
The  bravest  hearts,  lead  thou  to  Italy ; 
For  yet  in  Latium  with  a  hardy  tribe,  915 
Trained  to  rough  usage,  thou  must  fight  it  out. 
But  first  the  infernal  home  of  Pluto  dare. 
And  through  Avernus'  depths  seek  interview 
With  me,  my  son.    Thither  the  Sibyl  maid. 
After  much  blood  of  black  sheep  spilt,  shall  lead  920 
Thy  feet.    There  thou  the  story  of  thy  race, 
The  city  that  is  fated  thee,  shalt  learn. 
Farewell.    The  tearful  Night  turns  down  the  sky, 


BOOK  V. 


And  now  the  panting  steeds  of  ruthless  Morn 

Are  breathing  on  my  cheek."    And  while  he  spake,  925 

Like  smoke  he  blended  with  the  vacant  air. 

"  Why  hastestthou  ?  Why  break'st  thou  from  me  thus?" 

^neas  cried,  "  From  whom  dost  fly  ?    What  is't 

That  keeps  thee  from  my  arms  ? "  While  thus  he  speaks, 

He  wakes  the  ashes  and  the  smouldering  fire,  930 

Adores,  with  sacred  meal  and  censer  full, 

His  country's  gods  and  the  pure  Vesta's  shrine. 

Then  calls  his  friends,  Acestes  first  of  all. 
And  tells  them  Jove's  command,  his  dear  sire's  words, 
And  what  is  now  the  purpose  in  his  mind.  93s 
No  time  is  wasted  in  debate,  nor  doth 
Acestes  shirk  the  bidding.    They  enroll 
The  women  in  the  city ;  set  apart 
Whoever  of  the  people  will,  whoe'er 
For  glory  have  no  thirst ;  and  for  themselves  940 
Renew  the  thwarts,  repair  the  half-burnt  hulks, 
And  oars  and  rudders  fit  —  their  number  small. 
But  deathless  valor  theirs  on  battle-field. 

In  the  meantime  ^neas  with  a  plough 
Marks  out  a  town,  allots  the  settlers'  homes,  945 
Bids  this  be  Ilium  called  and  that  be  Troy. 
Trojan  Acestes  glories  in  his  realm, 
Sets  up  a  forum,  summons  senators, 
And  laws  enacts.    On  Eryx'  top  they  lift 
Idalian  Venus'  temple  toward  the  stars.  wo 
A  priest  is  stationed  at  Anchises'  tomb. 
And  trees  set  round,  held  sacred  far  and  wide. 

Now  had  they  all  enjoyed  their  nine  days  fete, 
The  honors  to  the  sacred  dead  all  paid. 


164 


THE  iENEID. 


Fair  breezes  sweep  the  sea ;  the  south  wind  breathes,  95s 

And  oft  doth  call  them  to  the  deep  again  ; 

The  rolling  tide  curls  high  along  the  shore. 

A  day  and  night  they  linger  and  embrace. 

The  very  women,  whom  the  ocean's  stretch 

So  cruel  and  its  name  so  hateful  seemed,  960 

Now  long  to  sail  and  undergo  the  toil 

Of  exile  to  the  end.    With  kindly  words, 

Them  good  ^neas  quiets,  and  in  tears 

Commends  them  to  Acestes  kin  to  them. 

He  bids  to  Eryx  sacrifice  three  steers,  965 

To  Storm  a  lamb,  and  then  the  cable  loose. 

Crowned  with  the  olive-leaf  and  standing  off 

Upon  the  prow,  he  lifts  the  bowl,  spills  out 

The  entrails  in  the  salty  waves,  and  pours 

The  flowing  wine.    As  forth  they  go,  up  springs  970 

The  wind  and  follows  dead  astern.    The  men 

Vie  as  they  sweep  the  sea  and  toss  the  spray. 

But  meanwhile  Venus,  all  solicitude. 
Thus  from  her  heart  to  Neptune  makes  complaint : 
"  The  bitter  hate,  the  spite  insatiable  97s 
Of  Juno  'tis  that  drives  me,  Neptune,  thus 
Forever  on  my  knees.    Nor  length  of  time, 
Nor  honest  worth  her  vengeance  can  allay. 
Nor,  though  she  break  the  law  of  Jove  and  fate, 
Doth  she  desist.    'Tis  not  revenge  enough,  980 
That  from  the  nations  of  the  earth  she  blots 
The  sovereignty  of  Phrygia,  or  drags  dow^n 
The  remnant  of  the  race  through  every  stress ; 
Nay,  she  pursues  the  ashes  and  the  bones 
Of  the  dead  Troy.    She  only  knows  what  cause  985 


BOOK  V. 


There  is  for  rage  so  great.    Thou  wert  thyself 

But  late  a  witness  what  a  hurricane 

She  on  a  sudden  raised  on  Libyan  waves. 

Trusting,  though  vain,  the  blasts  of  ^olus, 

She  mingled  all  the  sea  and  sky,  nay  dared  990 

To  trespass  on  thy  realm.    Behold  but  now 

The  hellish  craft  that  crazed  the  Trojan  dames 

To  fire  inhumanly  the  fleet,  and  drove 

In  exile  on  a  stranger  shore  the  crews 

Whose  boats  were  burnt !  Since  nothing  else  is  left,  995 

I  beg  thee  waft  them  safely  o'er  the  deep, 

And  let  them  make  the  Italian  Tiber's  mouth. 

Naught  do  I  ask  save  what  is  promised  them, 

For  there  the  fates  decree  their  home  shall  be." 

Then  Neptune,  Lord  of  the  deep  sea,  spake  thus  : 
"  Venus,  by  every  right  thou  mayest  trust 
This  realm  of  mine,  whence  cometh.  thy  descent. 
I  too  have  merited  thy  confidence : 
Oft  have  I  stayed  the  storm,  though  ne'er  so  wild 
The  madness  of  the  sea  and  sky.    Nor  less  ^'^s 
On  land,  let  Simois  and  Xanthus  tell, 
Hath  thy  ^neas  been  my  care.    For  when 
Achilles  chased  the  panting  Trojan  rout. 
And  drove  them  to  the  wall,  and  sent  to  death 
So  many  thousands  that  the  rivers  choked  1°"* 
And  groaned,  nor  could  the  Xanthus  find  its  way 
Or  flow  out  to  the  sea,  then  rescued  I 
^neas  mantled  in  a  hollow  cloud  — 
No  match  for  grim  Achilles  he  in  strength, 
Or  favor  of  the  gods  —  and  this  I  did,  'o'S 
Though  'twas  my  wish  to  level  from  their  base 


r66 


THE  yENEID. 


The  perjured  Trojan  walls  my  hands  had  laid. 
Still  to  this  hour  my  purpose  stands  the  same. 
Fear  not.    Safe  shall  he  reach  Avernus'  gates, 
As  thou  desir'st.    There  shall  be  only  one  ^020 
Whom,  lost  at  sea,  he  shall  lament — -one  life 
Alone  be  sacrificed  for  all  the  rest." 

Soon  as  the  Father  thus  has  calmed  the  breast 
Of  the  glad  goddess,  to  his  golden  car 
He  yokes  his  steeds  curbed  with  the  foaming  bit,  ^^^s 
And  lets  'the  reins  run  out  of  hand ;  swift  glides 
The  azure  chariot  o'er  the  water's  crest ; 
The  waves  go  down,  and  'neath  the  thundering  wheels 
The  billows  break  in  showers  of  spray :  the  clouds 
Fly  from  the  vast  of  heaven.  Then  round  him  throng  ^030 
The  various  shapes  that  keep  him  company ; 
Huge  whales,  old  Glaucus'  train,  Palaemon,  son 
Of  Ino,  Tritons  swift,  all  Phorcus'  band, 
And  on  his  left  Thetis  and  Melite, 
The  virgin  Panopea  and  Nesaee, 
Spio,  Thalia  and  Cymodoce. 

And  now  at  last  a  sweet  content  pervades 
Father  Eneas'  o'erwrought  heart.    He  bids 
Quick  hoist  each  mast  and  stretch  the  spars  with  sail. 
All  tack  at  once,  together  all  let  go  ^°4o 
The  larboard  now,  and  now  the  starboard  sheets. 
And  square  or  shift  the  yards.    Fair  breezes  speed 
The  craft,  while  Palinurus,  in  advance 
Of  all  the  others,  leads  the  clustering  fleet. 
The  rest  are  bid  to  shape  their  course  by  him.  ^°4S 

The  dewy  night  had  almost  turned  the  goal ; 
On  the  hard  thwarts  in  quiet  slumber  stretched, 


BOOK  V. 


167 


The  sailors  lay  at  rest  beneath  their  oars, 

When  noiseless  Sleep  from  starry  ether  fell, 

Parted  the  dusky  air  and  cleft  the  night,  ^°so 

Thee,  Palinurus,  seeking,  —  bringing  thee, 

Thou  innocent,  the  sleep  of  death.    There  sat 

The  Spirit  on  the  lofty  stern,  in  shape 

Like  Phorbas,  and  thus  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"  See,  Palinurus,  son  of  lasius  thou,  ^°55 

The  very  tide  bears  on  the  fleet :  the  wind 

Blows  fair,  the  hour  is  set  apart  to  rest. 

Lay  down  thy  head  and  let  thy  weary  eyes 

From  watching  steal  away  a  little  while, 

And  I  will  do  thy  duties  in  thy  stead." 

But  Palinurus,  though  he  scarce  could  lift 

His  eyes,  thus  answer  made  :  "  Dost  thou  bid  me 

Forget  what  lurks  when  ocean's  face  is  calm 

And  waves  are  still,  or  risk  a  sea  like  this  ? 

So  oft  by  cheat  of  pleasant  weather  caught,       '  ^°^s 

Shall  I  ^neas  trust  to  treacherous  winds  ?  " 

While  thus  he  spake,  he  grasped  the  rudder  hard, 

And,  clinging  to  it,  ne'er  let  go,  but  kept 

His  eyes  upon  the  stars.    But  lo  !  across 

His  brow  the  Spirit  shook  a  twig  that  dripped  1070 

With  the  Lethean  dew  and  with  the  sleep 

Of  death,  and  shut  the  fainting  lids  that  tried 

So  hard  to  wake.    The  sudden  drowsiness 

Had  scarce  begun  to  lax  his  limbs,  when  down 

The  Spirit  leaned  on  him,  and  overboard  '°7S 

He  fell,  the  stern-post  and  the  rudder  torn 

Into  the  tide  with  him,  where  all  in  vain 

He  shouted  to  his  comrades  oft  and  loud, 


i68 


THE  ^NEID. 


While  through  the  viewless  air  the  Spirit  rose. 

Safe  on  its  way  no  less  the  fleet  flew  on,  ^os© 

Borne  o'er  the  deep,  for  Father  Neptune's  pledge 

Left  naught  to  fear.    Already  now  it  made 

The  islands  of  the  Sirens,  dangerous  once 

And  bleached  with  many  sailors'  bones.    Far  off 

The  roaring  breakers  echoed  to  the  dash  ^°^5 

Of  the  untiring  sea.    ^neas  woke 

To  find  his  boat  adrift,  his  pilot  lost ; 

And,  mid  the  darkness  and  the  waves,  himself 

Its  guidance  took,  though  many  a  groan  he  heaved. 

Stunned  athisfriend's  mishap.  "Trusting  too  much  ^°9° 

To  truce  of  wind  and  wave,  on  some  lone  strand 

Thou,  Palinurus,  wilt  unburied  lie." 


Cumcean  Sibyl. 

Domenichino. 


SIXTH  BOOK. 


So  spake  and  wept :  then  crowds  all  sail  until 
At  last  he  grates  Euboean  Cumae's  shore. 
The  bows  are  turned  to  sea  :  at  anchor  ride 
The  boats,  the  fluke  imbedded  firm  :  the  beach 
Is  crested  with  the  rounded  sterns.    The  crews, 
Eager  to  press  the  Italian  soil,  leap  out. 
Some  strike  the  sparks  of  flame,  that  lurk  within 
The  tissues  of  the  flint.    Some  rove  the  woods, 
The  wild  and  tangled  haunts  of  savage  beasts. 
And  point  the  streams  where  water  may  be  found. 
But  good  ^neas  seeks  the  lofty  heights 
O'er  which  Apollo  sits,  the  cavern  vast 
Wherein  the  awful  Sibyl  hides  from  sight, 
Whose  mighty  mind  and  heart  the  prophet-god 
With  inspiration  fills,  disclosing  her 
The  things  that  are  to  be.    Already  now 
They  reach  Diana's  groves  and  golden  roofs. 

When  Daedalus  fled  Crete,  the  legend  goes. 
He  on  swift  pinions  dared  attempt  the  air. 
Winged  his  strange  journey  to  the  icy  north, 
And  lightly  poised  at  last  on  Cumae's  heights. 
Because  he  first  alighted  here,  to  thee, 
Apollo,  consecrated  he  the  wings 
That  had  been  oars,  and  built  a  temple  vast. 
Upon  its  gates  he  carved  Androgeos'  death  ; 
Next  that — sad  sight — the  Athenians  doomed  each  y( 


170 


THE  .ENEID. 


To  sacrifice  the  bodies  of  their  sons 

And  daughters  —  seven  of  either  sex ;  there  stands 

The  urn  from  which  the  lots  but  now  were  drawn. 

Upon  the  other  side  appears  the  isle  30 

Of  Crete  uprising  from  the  sea,  and  there 

Is  wrought  the  brutal  passion  for  the  bull, 

Pasiphae's  unnatural  device, 

The  cross  of  man  and  beast,  that  monstrous  birth 

Two  shapes  in  one,  that  monument  of  lust  35 

Too  foul  for  utterance  —  the  Minotaur. 

There  too  the  inextricable  Labyrinth, 

The  elaborate  keep  to  shut  the  monster  in : 

Yet  Daedalus  himself  —  so  pitied  he 

The  princess  Ariadne's  desperate  love  —  40 

The  trick  and  mazes  of  the  structure  solved. 

And  traced  its  intricacies  with  a  thread. 

Thou  also,  Icarus,  in  work  of  art 

So  wondrous  would'st  have  had  no  slighted  niche. 

Had  grief  allowed.    Twice  strove  thy  sire  in  gold  45 

To  carve  thy  fall :  twice  drooped  the  father's  hands. 

And  they  had  lingered  gazing  at  all  this, 
Had  not  Achates,  who  had  gone  before. 
Returned,  and  with  him  brought  Deiphobe, 
Daughter  of  Glaucus,  Phoebus'  priestess  she  so 
And  Hecate's,  who  thus  spake  unto  the  king : 
"  Not  these  the  sights  the  hour  demands.  Haste  thou 
To  sacrifice  seven  bulls  ne'er  bent  to  yoke. 
And  fitly-chosen  sheep  as  many  more." 

So  spake  she  to  ^neas.    Then  away,  ss 
The  while  they  haste  to  do  her  priestly  will, 
She  calls  the  Trojans  to  the  spacious  cave, 


BOOK  VI. 


Cut  from  the  tall  Euboean  cliff,  and  made 

Into  a  temple  where  a  hundred  doors 

Lead  in,  a  hundred  out,  and  whence  respond  ^ 

As  many  voices  to  the  Sibyl's  spell. 

The  moment  they  upon  the  threshold  step, 

The  virgin  cries  :  "  Now  seek  thy  destiny ! 

The  God  !    Behold  the  God !  "    And  as  she  spake, 

There  at  the  gates  changed  instantly  her  look 

And  hue  ;  down  streamed  her  hair ;  panted  her  breast ; 

Her  wild  heart  swelled  with  frenzy,  and  her  height 

Seemed  loftier,  and  her  voice  no  mortal  sound. 

Toned  by  the  nearer  presence  of  the  god. 

"Trojan  ^neas,  where  are  now,"  she  cried,  70 

"Thy  vows  and  prayers?  Still  dumb?  Ah!  never,  then, 

Shall  swing  this  awful  temple's  mighty  gates." 

So  spake  she,  and  was  still.    Cold  shudders  thrilled 

The  Trojans'  stiffening  bones.    The  king  poured  out 

His  deepest  heart  in  prayer.    "  O  Phoebus,  thou,  75 

Who  ever  pitied'st  the  woes  of  Troy, 

And  Trojan  Paris'  shaft  and  hand  didst  aim 

Against  Achilles'  breast,  still  hast  thou  been 

My  guide,  while  I  have  dared  so  many  seas 

Washing  so  many  shores,  and  wandered  far 

Amid  Massylian  tribes  and  through  the  lands 

That  border  on  the  Syrtes !    Now  at  last 

We  press  the  Italian  strand  that  fled  so  long. 

Thus  far  the  fate  of  Troy  its  course  hath  run : 

But  henceforth,  all  ye  gods  and  goddesses,  8j 

Whom  the  great  name  of  Troy  and  Ilium  irked, 

'Tis  justice  that  ye  spare  the  Trojan  race. 

Thou,  too,  most  holy  prophetess,  who  dost 


172 


THE  .ENEID. 


Foresee  what  is  to  come,  grant  me  who  ask 

No  realm  that  is  not  fated  me,  that  yet  90 

The  persecuted  deities  of  Troy, 

The  Trojans,  and  their  wandering  gods  may  rest 

On  Latium's  soil.   There  temples  will  I  build 

Of  solid  marble,  unto  Hecate  cut 

And  Phoebus,  and  establish  festivals  95 

For  Phoebus  named.    And  stately  shrines  await 

Thee  also  in  my  realm.    In  them  will  I 

Repose  thy  oracles,  the  secret  fates 

Revealed  unto  my  race ;  and  I,  sweet  maid, 

Will  consecrate  thee  chosen  ministers. 

Only  write  not  thy  legends  on  the  leaves, 

Lest  whirled  away  they  fly,  and  be  the  sport 

Of  the  wild  wind.    Thyself,  I  pray  thee,  speak." 

His  prayer  was  ended  and  he  held  his  peace. 

Not  yet  submissive  to  Apollo's  will,  "5 
Wild  raves  the  prophetess  within  the  cave 
To  wrest  the  mighty  god  from  out  her  breast. 
So  much  the  more  he  tires  her  frothing  mouth, 
Conquers  her  stormy  heart,  and  fashions  her 
By  mastering  her.    Then  freely  open  wide 
The  temple's  hundred  stately  doors,  from  whence 
The  Sibyl's  answers  echo  through  the  air : 
"  O  thou,  who  hast  great  perils  of  the  sea 
O'ercome  at  last,  yet  heavier  wait  thee  still 
Upon  the  land.    The  Trojans  sure  shall  yet  "S 
Into  the  kingdom  of  Lavinium  go — 
Relieve  thy  heart  of  that  —  but  they  shall  wish 
They  had  not  come.    Wars,  savage  wars  I  see, 
The  Tiber  streaming  with  a  flood  of  gore  : 


BOOK  VI. 


173 


Xanthus  thou  shalt  not  lack,  nor  Simoi's, 

Nor  Grecian  camp.    In  Latium,  even  now, 

Achilles  in  another  lives,  he  too 

A  goddess'  son.    Nor  anywhere  on  earth 

Will  Juno  cease  to  haunt  the  Trojans'  flank. 

What  race  in  Italy,  what  city  there,  "s 

Wilt  thou  not  then,  a  suppliant  in  distress, 

Entreat  ?    Again  the  cause  of  woes  so  great 

Shall  be  the  wife  who  charms  her  Trojan  guest  — 

Again  the  marriage  with  a  foreigner. 

Yield  not  to  ills.    Go  but  the  braver  on,  '3o 

Where'er  thy  fortune  leads.  Where  least  thou  think'st. 

There  will  the  path  of  safety  open  first, 

From  out  a  city  of  the  very  Greeks." 

Thus  from  the  shrine  her  awful  mystic  words 
Sings  the  Cumaean  Sibyl ;  through  the  cave  ^35 
She  wails,  and  clouds  the  truth  with  mysteries. 
Apollo  lashes  her  to  rage,  and  goads 
E'en  to  the  quick.    Soon  as  her  fury  faints. 
And  quiet  grows  the  raging  of  her  tongue. 
Hero  ^neas  thus :  "  Maiden,  no  front 
Can  Danger  lift  I  have  not  seen  and  met ; 
All  things  have  I  forecast,  and  in  my  mind 
Already  borne.    I  ask  but  this  —  since  this 
Is  called  the  gateway  of  the  king  of  hell, 
The  gloomy  lake  where  Acheron  out-flows  — 
That  I  may  to  the  presence  and  the  face 
Of  my  dear  father  go.    Show  me  the  way, 
And  ope  the  sacred  doors.    'Twas  I  bore  him 
Upon  these  very  shoulders  through  the  fire, 
Ay,  through  the  gantlet  of  a  thousand  spears, 


174 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  snatched  him  from  the  thickest  of  the  foe. 

He  was  the  comrade  of  my  wandering  feet, 

With  me  dared  every  sea,  and  with  me  shared 

All  perils  of  the  ocean  and  the  storm, 

Though  weak  beyond  the  strength  and  lot  of  age.  ^ss 

Nay,  he  it  was  whose  lips  the  bidding  gave 

That  I,  a  suppliant,  thus  should  come  to  thee. 

And  on  thy  threshold  stand.    Sweet  maid,  I  pray, 

Pity  the  father  and  the  son,  for  thou 

Can'st  all  things  do,  nor  Hecate  hath  in  vain  '^o 

Made  thee  the  mistress  of  Avernus'  grove. 

If  trusting  only  to  his  Thracian  lute 

And  tuneful  strings,  could  Orpheus  back  allure 

The  spirit  of  his  wife ;  if  Pollux  went 

So  oft  from  heaven  to  hell,  from  hell  to  heaven,  ^^s 

And  paid  the  ransom  of  his  brother's  life 

By  dying  in  his  stead  alternate  days ; 

Nay,  why  great  Hercules  or  Theseus  name, — 

Count  I  not  Jove,  the  King  of  gods,  my  sire }  " 

So  pleaded  he,  and  to  the  altars  clung ;  ^70 
Till  thus  the  prophetess  began  :  "  O  thou, 
Trojan  Anchises'  son  and  sprung  from  blood 
Immortal !    Easy  the  descent  to  hell : 
The  portals  of  its  sable  king  gape  wide 
Both  day  and  night :  but  to  recall  the  step,  »7S 
To  reach  again  the  upper  air  of  heaven, — 
The  pinch,  the  peril  that !    A  few,  heaven-born. 
Whom  kindly  Jove  hath  loved,  or  pure  desert 
Hath  lifted  to  the  heavens,  have  won  their  way. 
Woods  gloom  o'er  all  the  intervening  space ; 
Cocytus  winds  its  murky  current  round. 


BOOK  VI. 


Yet  if  thy  heart  so  yearn,  if  so  intense 

Thy  craving  twice  to  cross  the  Stygian  stream, 

Twice  see  the  gloom  of  hell,  and  the  mad  risk 

Thou  dar'st  indulge,  learn  what  must  first  be  done,  ^^s 

In  the  thick  foliage  of  a  tree  there  lurks 

A  branch  with  leaves  and  supple  stalk  of  gold, 

Said  to  be  sacred  unto  Proserpine. 

The  whole  wood  hides  it :  in  the  gorge's  gloom 

The  shadows  shut  it  round.    Yet  ne'er  shall  he  ^90 

The  deep  recesses  of  the  earth  invade, 

Who  hath  not  plucked  this  golden-clustering  shoot 

Which  stately  Proserpine  doth  bid  him  bring 

To  offer  unto  her.    The  first  torn  oft, 

There  lacks  not  still  another  branch  of  gold  ;  ^95 

The  twig  puts  forth  again  its  golden  leaves. 

Look  high,  and  reverently,  when  'tis  found, 

Lay  hold  on  it,  for  if  the  fates  so  bid 

'Twill  follow  easily  and  of  itself : 

But  otherwise  thou  hast  not  strength  to  break,  200 

Nor  steel  an  edge  to  lop  it  off.    Nay,  more  — 

Alas!  thou  know'st  it  not — thy  friend  lies  dead. 

The  whole  fleet  poisoned  with  his  corse,  whilst  thou 

My  counsel  seek'st  and  lingerest  at  my  door. 

Him  to  his  resting  place  first  bear  and  lay  205 

Within  the  grave.    Then  sacrifice  black  sheep. 

And  let  them  be  thy  earliest  oiferings  there 

So  shalt  thou  see  at  length  the  Stygian  stream. 

The  realms  the  living  dread."    The  Sibyl  spake 

No  more  ;  her  lips  were  sealed,  and  she  was  mute. 

Forth  from  the  cave  ^neas  goes,  his  eyes 
Cast  sadly  down,  and  ponders  in  his  mind 


176 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  tangled  turn  of  things,  while  at  his  side 
Faithful  Achates  walks,  like  full  of  care. 
In  conversation  long  and  ranging  wide, 
They  question  who  may  be  the  comrade  dead, 
As  spake  the  prophetess,  —  whose  corse  it  is 
Needs  burial.    So,  till  on  the  dry  sea-sand 
They  come,  and  find  Misenus  there,  cut  olf 
By  an  inglorious  death  —  Misenus,  son 
Of  uiEolus,  who  had  no  peer  when  he 
His  trumpet  blew  to  stir  the  soldier's  heart. 
And  fire  the  battle  with  its  blast.    The  friend 
Of  mighty  Hector  had  he  been  :  alike 
Distinguished  with  the  bugle  and  the  spear,  225 
At  Hector's  side  full  many  a  fight  he  dared : 
And  when  victorious  Achilles  spoiled 
That  hero  of  his  life,  Misenus  joined. 
Himself  among  the  bravest  of  the  brave, 
Trojan  -Eneas'  ranks,  nor  did  he  then  *3o 
Follow  a  less  illustrious  leadership. 
And  yet  but  now,  while  he  by  merest  chance 
Made  the  sea  echo  with  an  empty  shell. 
And  dared,  the  fool,  the  gods  to  vie  with  him 
To  make  the  welkin  ring,  if  true  the  tale,  235 
The  envious  Triton  caught  him  off  his  guard, 
And  with  a  wild  wave  dashed  him  on  the  rocks. 
So  round  him  now  with  lamentations  loud 
All  mourn,  and  good  ^Eneas  most  of  all. 
Without  delay  they  haste,  though  still  in  tears,  ^40 
To  do  the  Sibyl's  best,  an  altar-pyre 
Of  tree-trunks  build,  and  lift  it  to  the  sky. 
Into  an  ancient  wood  they  go,  where  haunt 


BOOK  VI. 


177 


The  savage  beasts.    The  pitch-pines  thundering  fall : 
Struck  with  the  axe  the  holly  rings  :  ash  boles  ^45 
And  straight-grained  oaks  are  with  the  wedges  cleft, 
And  from  the  hills  great  logs  come  rolling  down. 
Himself  among  the  foremost  in  the  work, 
-^neas  spurs  the  men  and  shares  their  toil. 

But  as  he  views  the  forest  stretching  far, 
'Tis  thus  he  muses  in  his  own  sad  heart, 
And  bursts  in  prayer :  "  Amid  so  dense  a  wood, 
Oh,  that  upon  my  sight  there  now  might  glint 
That  golden  branch  on  but  a  single  tree ! 
Alas  !  too  truly  sang  the  prophetess  255 
Thy  fate,  Misenus."   Scarce  he  spake  so  much, 
When,  chance  it  seemed,  twin  doves  came  flying  forth 
From  out  the  sky  before  the  hero's  eyes, 
And  settled  down  upon  the  grassy  turf. 
His  mother's  birds  the  mighty  warrior  knew,  260 
And  full  of  joy  he  prayed  :  "Be  ye  my  guides, 
If  path  there  be,  and  through  the  air  direct 
Your  flight  to  groves  where  on  the  fertile  sward 
The  golden  bough  its  shadow  casts !  and  thou. 
My  goddess  mother,  fail  me  not  in  this  265 
Extremity!"  So  spake,  stood  still,  and  watched 
The  signs  they  gave,  the  way  they  took,  while  they. 
Stopping  to  feed  at  times,  flew  on  and  on. 
Yet  but  so  fast,  that  following  them  his  eyes 
Could  keep  them  still  in  sight.    Soon  as  they  reach  270 
The  jaws  of  dank  Avernus,  swift  they  soar, 
Glide  through  the  liquid  air,  and  side  by  side 
Perch  on  the  very  tree  for  which  he  longs ; 
While  from  its  leaves  gleams  the  bright  glint  of  goldj 
12 


178 


THE  ^NEID. 


As  sometimes  in  the  woods,  in  winter  time,  275 

The  mistletoe  that  clings  about  the  tree 

That  bore  it  not,  shoots  a  new  leaf  and  wreathes 

The  shrivelled  bole  with  yellow  vines.    So  shone 

The  golden  twig  from  out  the  clustering  oak : 

So  its  leaves  rustled  in  the  gentle  wind.  280 

^neas  snatched  it  quick ;  eager  he  broke 

Its  hold,  and  bore  it  to  the  Sibyl's  door. 

Meantime  upon  the  shore  the  Trojans  mourn 
Over  Misenus'  corse,  and  the  last  rites 
Pay  to  his  lifeless  ashes.    First  of  all,  285 
A  huge  pyre  they  erect,  inflammable 
With  pitch-pine  and  with  oak.    Its  sides  they  trim 
With  dark  green  leaves  ;  funereal  cypresses 
They  place  in  front,  and  on  the  top  of  all 
The  blazon  of  his  shining  arms.    Some  bring  290 
Warm  baths  in  kettles  bubbling  with  the  heat, 
Wash  and  anoint  the  body  cold  in  death. 
And  with  a  wail  of  grief  weep  o'er  the  limbs 
Laid  out  upon  the  pyre,  and  o'er  them  throw 
His  purple  vestments  and  familiar  cloak.  295 
Some  lift  the  mighty  bier  —  sad  ministry  — 
And,  following  the  custom  of  the  sires, 
Their  faces  turned  aside,  apply  the  torch. 
Heaped  up,  the  offerings  then  of  frankincense. 
The  sacrificial  meats,  the  out-poured  bowls  3<» 
Of  oil  together  burn ;  and  when  the  corse 
To  ashes  turns,  and  flickers  out  the  flame, 
They  dash  the  relics  and  the  thirsty  coals 
With  wine.    Then  Chorinaeus  gathers  up 
The  bones  and  seals  them  in  a  brazen  urn ;  305 


BOOK  VI. 


179 


Thrice  with  pure  water  circles  he  his  mates, 

Sprinkling  the  light  spray  o'er  them  with  a  branch 

Of  happy  olive,  purifies  the  men, 

And  calls  the  last  farewells.    Piously,  too, 

^neas  builds  a  towering  sepulchre  3" 

Unto  the  hero,  with  his  arms,  his  oar, 

His  trumpet  laid  upon  it,  at  the  foot 

Of  that  high  mount  that  now  from  him  is  called 

Misenus  —  name  that  through  all  time  shall  last ! 

This  done,  he  hastes  to  do  the  Sibyl's  hest.  315 
A  deep  and  ragged  cave  with  yawning  mouth 
Lay  guarded  from  approach  by  gloomy  lake 
And  forest  shade,  o'er  which  no  bird  could  wing 
Its  flight  in  safety,  such  the  stench  that  rolled 
From  its  black  throat  and  swept  the  arch  of  heaven  ;  320 
Whence  comes  the  name  Avernus  with  the  Greeks. 

Opening  the  rites,  the  priestess  hither  brought 
Four  black-haired  bulls,  and  'twixt  their  eyes  dashed 
wine ; 

Between  their  horns  the  topmost  lock  she  cut, 

And  laid  it,  first  of  all  the  offerings  there  32s 

Upon  the  altar  fires,  while  she  invoked 

Hecate,  goddess  alike  in  heaven  and  hell. 

Others  apply  the  sacrificial  knife 

And  catch  the  tepid  blood  in  bowls.    To  Night, 

The  mother  of  the  Furies,  and  to  Earth  330 

Her  mighty  sister,  with  his  own  right  hand 

And  sword  ^neas  kills  a  black-fleeced  lamb ; 

To  thee,  a  farrow  cow,  O  Proserpine. 

Unto  the  king  of  Styx  at  night  he  builds 

An  altar,  and  outstretches  on  its  fire  335 


i8o 


THE  ^NEID. 


A  holocaust  of  bulls,  and  on  the  fat 

And  burning  carcasses  libations  pours. 

And  lo  !  at  earliest  break  of  morning  light 

The  earth  beneath  their  feet  begins  to  heave, 

The  forest  heights  to  move,  and  through  the  gloom,  340 

As  comes  the  goddess  forth,  they  seem  to  hear 

The  howling  of  he^  hounds.    "  Begone,  begone 

Afar,  O  ye  profane,  '  the  prophetess 

Exclaims,  "  and  get  ye  wholly  from  the  grove. 

Do  thou  alone,  ^neas,  dare  the  way,  345 

And  from  the  scabbard  draw  thy  sword,  for  now 

Is  need  of  all  thy  will  and  fortitude." 

So  spake,  and  madly  plunged  into  the  cave. 

With  fearless  step  he  keeps  his  leader's  side. 

Ye  gods,  whose  empire  is  the  realm  of  souls,  350 
Ye  silent  ghosts,  and  ye,  both  Phlegethon 
And  Chaos  wrapped  in  silence  of  the  night. 
Let  me  repeat  the  wonders  I  have  heard. 
And  with  thy  sanction  open  up  to  view 
The  mysteries  of  the  womb  and  deep  of  earth.  35s 

Alone,  amid  the  gloomy  shades  of  night, 
They  wandered  on  through  Pluto's  vacant  halls 
And  dreary  realms,  as  in  the  woods  one  vv^alks 
Beneath  the  envious  and  uncertain  moon. 
When  Jupiter  with  vapors  hides  the  sky,  36a 
And  dark  night  makes  the  whole  world  colorless. 

Before  the  vestibule  and  in  the  jaws 
Of  hell.  Grief  and  Remorse  have  made  their  bed. 
There  dwell  ghastly  Disease  and  sad  Old  Age, 
And  Fear,  and  Hunger  bent  on  crime,  foul  Want,  365 
And  Death,  and  Toil  —  forms  horrible  to  see. 


BOOK  VI. 


i8i 


And  next  to  them  are  Sleep,  the  twin  of  Death, 
And  all  the  guilty  Passions  of  the  heart, 
Death-dealing  War,  the  Furies'  iron  rack, 
And  Discord  raving  mad,  her  hair  a  nest  37° 
Of  vipers  into  bloody  fillets  twined. 

Midway,  a  huge  and  shady  elm  spreads  out 
Its  boughs  and  ancient  limbs,  wherein  'tis  said 
Perch  lying  dreams  that  cling  'neath  every  leaf. 
Bide  at  the  gates  all  sorts  of  monstrous  brutes  ;  375 
Centaurs ;  and  Scyllas,  man  and  beast  in  one ; 
Briareus  with  his  hundred  hands ;  the  snake, 
Monster  of  Lerna,  hissing  horribly ; 
Chimsera  vomiting  her  flames  ;  Gorgons  ; 
And  Harpies  ;  and  three-bodied  Geryon's  ghost.  380 
Here,  sudden  struck  with  fear,  ^neas  draws 
His  blade  and  forward  thrusts  its  naked  point 
As  they  approach  and,  but  his  wiser  guide 
Had  minded  him  they  were  but  bodiless 
And  airy  wraiths  in  unsubstantial  bricks  385 
Of  shape  that  wont  to  flit,  he  had  charged  on 
And  with  his  sv^rord  dispersed  but  idle  shades. 

Thence  runs  the  way  to  Acheron's  gloomy  flow ; 
Miry  and  bottomless  its  eddies  boil, 
And  belch  into  Cocytus  all  their  sand.  390 
Frightful  in  filth,  Charon  the  ferryman 
These  streams  and  waters  guards  :  upon  his  chin 
Lies  his  unshorn  and  matted  beard  :  his  eyes 
Are  shafts  of  fire :  his  squalid  mantle  hangs 
Tied  at  the  shoulder  with  a  knot.    His  boat,  395 
Trimmed  with  a  sail,  he  pushes  with  a  pole. 
And  in  his  rusty  skiff  takes  ghosts  across,  — 


l82 


THE  ^NEID. 


An  old  man  now,  but  with  a  god's  old  age 

Still  fresh  and  green.    Here  ever  to  the  bank 

A  thronging,  countless  multitude  press  up  —  400 

Mothers  and  chiefs,  boys,  maidens  never  won, 

Great  heroes'  shades  bereft  of  life,  and  youths 

Before  the  faces  of  their  parents  stretched 

On  funeral  pyres.    Not  faster  fall  the  leaves 

When  the  first  frost  of  autumn  chills  the  woods,  405 

Or  flock  the  birds  from  ocean  to  the  land 

When  winter  sweeps  the  sea  and  chases  them 

To  summer  climes.    Pleading,  they  stand  in  hope 

To  be  the  first  to  cross,  and  stretch  their  hands 

In  eager  yearning  for  the  farther  shore.  4" 

Implacable,  the  pilot  takes  now  these, 

Now  those,  and  drives  the  rest  far  up  the  beach. 

^neas  wondering  much  and  moved  to  hear 
Their  lamentations,  cries  :  "  What  means,  O  maid. 
This  thronging  to  the  river  bank  ?    What  is't  415 
They  seek  so  eagerly  ?    What  line  divides 
'Twixt  those  who  linger  on  the  shore,  and  those 
Who  o'er  the  livid  stream  embark  to  row  ? " 
Brief  answers  back  the  long-lived  prophetess. 
"  Anchises'  son,  sure  offspring  from  the  gods, 
Thou  look'st  upon  Cocytus'  stagnant  flood 
And  creeping  Styx,  by  whose  dread  name  not  gods 
Dare  swear  and  not  abide.    This  multitude. 
Whom  hither  thou  behold'st,  unburied  lie 
And  destitute :  Charon  yon  ferryman  :  42s 
While  they  who  ride  the  waves  have  burial  had. 
For  none  may  he  across  these  ghastly  banks, 
This  groaning  flood  transport,  till  in  the  earth 


BOOK  VI. 


183 


Their  bones  are  laid  to  rest.    A  hundred  years 

They  wander  to  and  fro  and  flit  along  430 

These  shores,  admitted  then  at  length  to  cross 

The  waters  they  have  longed  to  gain."    Stayed  then 

His  step  Anchises'  son,  and  stood  stock  still, 

O'erwhelmed  and  full  of  pity  for  a  lot 

So  hard,  as  there  the  wretched  throng  he  scanned,  435 

Robbed  of  the  honor  e'en  of  death,  and  saw 

Leucaspis,  and  Orontes  commodore 

Of  his  own  Lycian  fleet,  whom  both  from  Troy 

Sailing  the  stormy  sea,  the  south  wind  wrecked, 

The  waves  engulfing  bark  and  mariners.  440 

Lo !  pilot  Palinurus  presses  up. 
Who  late  on  Libya's  sea,  while  he  kept  watch, 
Had  fallen  from  off  the  stern  amid  the  waves. 
Mid  the  thick  gloom  ^neas  scarcely  knew 
His  face,  so  sad  it  was,  yet  spake  him  first : 
"  What  god,  O  Palinurus,  from  us  stole 
And  drowned  thee  in  mid  ocean,  tell  me  now  ! 
For  Phoebus,  never  found  at  fault  before, 
Deluded  me  in  this  one  oracle. 

Singing  that  thou  should'st  safely  cross  the  deep  450 

And  come  into  the  bounds  of  Italy. 

Lo  now,  is  this  the  keeping  of  his  faith  ? " 

But  answered  he :  "  Neither  the  oracle 

Of  Phoebus  hath  deceived  thee,  Trojan  king, 

Nor  e'er  the  god  did  drown  me  in  the  sea.  4ss 

For  while  I  steered  our  course,  and  held  the  helm 

That  to  my  watch  was  left,  I  headlong  fell 

And  dragged  it  with  me  in  my  own  mishap, 

Wrenching  it  violently  off.    I  swear 


i84 


THE  ^NEID. 


By  every  stormy  sea,  far  less  I  felt  460 
Fear  for  myself  than  lest,  the  rudder  gone 
And  pilot  overboard,  the  bark  that  bore 
Thy  fate  might  swamp  beneath  such  heavy  waves. 
Three  wintry  nights  on  o'er  the  boundless  sea 
The  fierce  wind  tossed  me  with  the  tide ;  at  dawn  465 
Upon  the  fourth,  high  on  a  billow's  top 
I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Italy.    To  land 
I  slowly  swam,  and  had  at  safety  grasped, 
But  that  some  savage  tribe,  that  stupidly 
Thought  me  worth  plundering,  slew  me  with  their 
swords  470 
While  weighted  down  in  garments  soaked  with  brine. 
And  with  my  fingers  clutching  at  the  sharp 
And  jutting  crags.    And  now  the  billows  sport 
With  me,  and  beat  me  to  and  from  the  shore. 
By  heaven's  sweet  light  and  air,  and  by  thy  sire,  47s 
By  every  hope  that  in  lulus  springs, 
I  pray  thee,  save  me  from  this  woe,  thou  man 
Of  victory !    Do  thou  seek  the  Velian  port, 
And  lay  me  in  the  earth,  for  this  thou  can'st ; 
Or  else  if  way  there  be,  if  any  such  480 
The  goddess  that  did  give  thee  birth  can  show  — 
For  not  without  the  help  of  gods  think  I 
Thou  dar'st  so  deep  a  flood  or  Styx's  tide 
To  cross  —  give  thy  poor  shipmate  thy  right  hand. 
And  take  me  with  thee  o'er  the  stream,  that  I  485 
At  least  in  death  may  rest  in  peace  at  last." 

While  thus  he  spake  the  prophetess  broke  in : 
"  Whence  comes,  O  Palinurus,  wish  so  rash  ? 
Would'st  look  unburied  on  the  waves  of  wStyx 


BOOK  VI. 


i8S 


The  Furies'  awful  river,  or  would'st  thou  49o 

Unbidden  press  its  bank  ?    Hope  thou  no  more 

To  turn  with  prayers  the  edict  of  the  gods ! 

But  to  thy  memory  take  what  now  I  say 

To  solace  thy  hard  lot ;  for  warned  from  heaven 

The  people  of  the  towns,  that  border  near  495 

Thy  death,  shall  lay  thy  bones,  erect  thy  tomb, 

And  at  it  pay  thee  solemn  rites ;  and  hence 

Forevermore  the  spot  shall  bear  the  name 

Of  Palinurus."    Fade  his  fears,  as  thus 

She  speaks,  and  grief  from  his  sad  heart  is  driven,  soo 

Made  happy  that  a  land  is  named  for  him. 

On  then  they  push  their  journey  well  begun. 
They  near  the  stream.    Soon  as  the  ferryman 
Looks  from  the  .Styx  and  sees  them  coming  through 
The  silent  grove  and  making  for  the  bank,  505 
The  first  to  speak,  he  gruffly  bawls  at  them : 
"  Whoe'er  thou  art  that  dost,  in  armor  clad, 
Approach  my  realm,  say  quick  why  comest  thou  ? 
Halt  where  thou  art !    This  is  the  abode  of  ghosts, 
Of  Sleep  and  slumberous  Night.    No  keel  on  Styx  510 
May  ferry  o'er  a  living  man.    Not  I 
Am  over  fond  remembering  that  I  took, 
When  faring  o'er  the  river,  Hercules, 
Or  Theseus,  or  Pirithoiis,  though  they 
Were  god-born  and  invincible  in  might.  s^s 
The  one  caught  by  the  hand  and  bound  in  chains 
Hell's  watch-dog  Cerberus,  and  dragged  him  forth 
Whining  from  underneath  e'en  Pluto's  throne ; 
The  others  had  the  daring  to  attempt 
To  drag  the  queen  from  off  the  royal  bed."  S9o 


i86 


THE  yENEID. 


Short  answer  makes  Apollo's  prophetess : 
'  Here  is  no  trick  like  that    Give  o'er  thy  fears ! 
His  armor  means  not  force.    Let  in  his  den 
The  monster  watch-dog  bark  eternally 
To  frighten  bloodless  ghosts  ;  unsullied  still  S25 
Shall  Proserpine  within  her  threshold  keep. 
Trojan  ^Eneas,  famed  in  piety 
And  war,  into  the  nether  world  descends 
To  meet  his  sire  ;  and  if  so  bright  a  mark 
Of  filial  love  affect  thee  naught,  at  least  530 
Thou  know'st  this  branch."    And  here  the  branch 
she  lifts 

That  hitherto  lay  hidden  in  her  robe. 

At  this  his  mounting  ire  subsides,  nor  more 

He  mutters.    Wondering  at  the  awful  gift. 

The  fateful  rod  last  seen  so  long  ago,  53s 

He  veers  his  dusky  boat  and  makes  the  bank, 

Then  hustles  out  the  ghosts  that  on  the  thwarts 

Already  sit  in  crowds,  and  clears  the  hold. 

E'en  while  he  takes  the  great  ^neas  in. 

His  yawl  of  patches  cracks  beneath  the  weight,  540 

And  lets  a  flood  of  water  through  its  leaks. 

At  last,  safe  o'er  the  stream,  hero  and  seer 

It  lands  mid  the  green  sedge  and  spongy  mire. 

Here  howls  huge  Cerberus,  three  throats  at  once, 
And  makes  all  ring  again,  at  full  length  stretched  54s 
Within  a  cave  that  guards  the  way.    To  whom, 
Soon  as  she  sees  the  snakes  about  his  neck 
Begin  to  squirm,  the  Sibyl  throws  a  loaf 
With  honey  and  with  drowsy  tinctures  soaked. 
Rabid  with  hunger,  all  three  jaws  apart,  ss® 


BOOK  VI. 


187 


He  snatches  at  the  gift :  then  tumbling  down, 

His  monstrous  limbs  relax,  and  lie  across 

The  cave  from  side  to  side.  The  watch  dog  drugged, 

^neas  quick  fills  up  the  way,  and  mounts 

The  bank  of  that  dread  stream  none  cross  but  once,  sss 

Wailings  at  once  he  hears,  and  piercing  cries. 
Right  at  the  threshold  moan  the  ghosts  of  babes 
Whom,  cheated  of  sweet  life,  a  dark  hour  snatched 
From  off  the  mother's  breast  and  whelmed  beneath 
The  bitterness  of  death.    Next  are  the  souls  s6o 
Condemned  to  die  on  accusations  false; 
Yet  not  without  a  sentence  or  a  court 
Their  doom  is  cast.    Minos,  presiding  judge, 
Doth  shake  the  urn.    The  arraignment  of  the  dead 
He  makes,  and  hears  the  indictment  of  their  lives.  s6s 

Next,  the  abode  of  melancholy  souls 
That,  guiltless  else,  sought  death  by  their  own  hand, 
And  laid  down  life  because  life  burdened  them. 
Glad  were  they  now  if  but  in  upper  air 
Rough  toil  or  want  they  bore.    But  fate  forbids  :  570 
The  grim  flood  pens  them  with  its  gloomy  wave ; 
Nine  times  the  inflowing  Styx  around  them  coils. 

Near  by,  extending  far  and  wide,  are  seen 
The  mourning  fields,  for  so  they  call  them,  where 
In  secret  hidden  paths  and  myrtle  groves  S7S 
Stray  those  who  pine  so  pitiably,  and  waste 
With  unrequited  love.    Still  e'en  in  death 
Doth  love  abide.    Here  Phaedra  he  beholds, 
And  Procris,  and  sad  Eriphyle  who 
Shows  wounds  her  own  hard-hearted  son  struck  home.  58<» 
Along  with  them  Laodamia  walks. 


l88  THE  ^NEID. 


And  Caeneus,  once  a  boy,  a  woman  now, 

Again  by  fate  restored  to  her  first  shape. 

There  too,  in  that  great  wood,  her  wound  still  fresh, 

Sidonian  Dido  wanders  to  and  fro :  ■'^s 

Nor  sooner  near  her  stood  the  Trojan  chief 

And  mid  the  gathering  gloom  saw  who  she  was, 

As  one  who  sees  or  fancies  that  he  sees 

The  faint,  young  moon  uprising  through  the  clouds. 

Than  burst  he  into  tears  and  spake  to  her  590 

With  loving  tenderness  :    "  Poor  Dido,  true 

Was  then  the  messenger  that  came  to  me, 

And  told  me  thou  wert  dead  and  with  the  sword 

Had  struck  the  fatal  blow.    And  I,  alas. 

Did  cause  thy  death !    By  all  the  stars,  O  queen,  595 

By  all  the  gods,  I  swear,  ay,  if  there  be 

Truth  in  the  deepest  of  the  worlds  below. 

That  from  thy  shore  I  went  against  my  will ! 

The  bidding  of  the  gods  forced  me  away 

As  now,  on  through  these  glooms,  this  black  of  night, 

These  regions  dank  with  mould,  it  forces  me  ! 

I  could  not  think  parting  would  pain  thee  so. 

Stay  yet  thy  feet  nor  from  my  sight  draw  off. 

Turn  not  away :  the  words  I  speak  thee  now 

Are  fated  for  the  last !  "    With  such  a  tongue 

yEneas  would  have  quieted  the  soul 

That  flashed  back  fire  and  scorned  him  in  her  eyes  ; 

So  would  have  melted  her  to  tears.  Aloof 

She  held  her  gaze  chained  to  the  ground,  nor  moved 

A  lid  to  hear  him,  more  than  had  she  stood 

Statued  in  solid  flint  or  Parian  stone, 

Till  in  disdain  at  last  she  broke  away, 


BOOK  VI. 


189 


And  fled  into  the  shadows  of  the  grove : 
There  doth  her  first  love  still  to  her  respond, 
Sichaeus'  heart  as  loving  as  her  own.  ^15 
Yet  none  the  less,  touched  at  a  fate  so  hard, 
^neas  followed  her  with  tearful  eyes, 
And  filled  with  pity  as  she  fled  afar. 

Thence  on  his  way  he  toils.    Already  now 
They  reach  the  farthest  boundaries,  wher&  apart 
Dwell  mighty  men  of  war.    There  face  to  face 
He  Tydeus  meets ;  Parthenopaeus  there. 
Illustrious  once  in  arms  j  and  there  the  ghost 
Of  wan  Adrastus ;  Trojans  there,  who  fell 
On  battle-fields,  still  freshly  mourned  on  earth  : 
He  scanned  the  long  procession  and  he  sobbed. 
Glaucus  and  Medon  and  Thersilochus 
He  saw ;  the  three  sons  whom  Antenor  had ; 
And  Polyboetes,  one  of  Ceres'  priests  ; 
The  charioteer  Idaeus  clutching  still  ^30 
His  armor  and  his  car.    Their  spirits  throng 
Around  him  right  and  left,  nor  is't  enough 
To  see  him  once,  but  still  they  linger  there, 
Keep  pace  with  him,  and  ask  him  why  he  came. 
But  when  the  Greek  chiefs  and  the  phalanxes  ^35 
Of  Agamemnon  look  upon  the  man, 
Hjs  armor  flashing  through  the  gloom,  they  fly 
In  craven  fear.    Some  turn  their  backs  as  once 
When  driven  to  their  boats.    Some  fain  would  lift 
A  feeble  cry:  their  voices  seem  to  faint  M 
Ere  yet  the  lips  have  closed  that  oped  to  speak. 

Here  too  he  saw  Deiphobus,  the  son 
Of  Priam,  mangled  top  to  toe,  his  face 


igo 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  both  his  hands  hacked  horribly,  his  ears 

From  his  shorn  temples  cut,  his  nose  lopped  off 

By  an  inhuman  stroke,  —  scarce  knowable, 

So  trembled  he  and  sought  his  hideous  wounds 

To  cover  while,  ^neas  speaking  first, 

He  heard  the  accents  of  that  well-known  voice : 

"  Gallant  Deiphobus,  born  of  the  blood  650 
Of  royal  Teucer,  who  hath  dared  inflict 
Such  cruelty  of  punishment,  or  who 
So  had  thee  at  his  mercy  ?    Came  to  me 
The  tale,  that,  weary  on  that  final  night 
With  slaughtering  so  many  Greeks,  thou  fell'st  ^ss 
At  last  upon  a  heap  of  mingled  dead. 
Then  did  I  build  upon  the  Trojan  shore 
A  cenotaph,  and  loudly  thrice  invoked 
Thy  ghost :  thy  name  and  arms  still  mark  the  spot. 
But  oh,  my  friend,  I  ne'er  could  find  the  corse 
To  lay  it,  ere  I  went,  in  native  soil ! " 
And  thus  the  son  of  Priam  answered  back : 
"  Naught  didst  thou  leave  for  me  undone,  my  friend  : 
All  honor  hast  thou  paid  Deiphobus 
And  to  his  soul  in  death.    But  destiny 
And  Helen's  fatal  wickedness  it  was 
That  whelmed  me  in  these  woes.  She  left  these  scars. 
Rememberest  thou  how  false  the  revelry. 
Mid  which  we  squandered  that  last  night  —  too  well 
We  needs  remember  it  —  when  o'er  the  walls  ^70 
Of  lofty  Troy  leapt  in  the  fatal  horse, 
And  from  its  womb  armed  infantry  did  bear  ? 
She,  feigning  'twas  some  sacred  dance,  led  forth 
The  Trojan  women  with  their  Bacchic  howl, 


BOOK  VI. 


While  she,  encircled  by  the  group,  held  high  "^75 

A  mighty  torch,  and  from  the  temple's  top 

Waved  in  the  Greeks.  'Twas  then,  worn  out  with  toil, 

And  dead  with  sleep,  I  kept  my  hapless  bed  ; 

Sweet  sleep  and  deep  was  on  me  as  I  lay, 

The  very  counterfeit  of  quiet  death. 

Meantime  stripped  this  rare  wife  of  mine  my  house 

Of  all  my  arms,  —  took  e'en  my  trusty  sword 

From  underneath  my  head :  within  my  gates 

She  Menelaus  called,  and  opened  him 

The  doors,  hoping  perhaps  so  great  a  prize 

Would  win  his  love,  and  blot  the  stigma  out 

Of  older  crimes.    Why  eke  the  tale  ?    They  burst 

Into  my  chamber  :  added  to  the  rest, 

Ulysses,  hatcher  of  all  mischief,  came. 

Do  likewise  to  the  Greeks,  ye  gods  !  I  ask 

With  reverent  lips  that  vengeance  at  your  hands. 

But  tell  me  now  in  turn,  what  chance  hath  brought 

Thee  here  in  mortal  shape  ?    Dost  hither  come, 

Cast  by  the  dangers  of  the  sea  adrift, 

Or  at  the  warning  of  the  gods  ?    What  strait  ^95 

Compels  thee  seek  these  sunless,  sad  abodes, 

This  valley  of  the  shadows  of  the  dead  ?  " 

While  yet  they  spake,  on  her  ethereal  course, 
Aurora  in  her  rosy  chariot  borne 
Over  half  heaven  had  swept,  and  haply  they  700 
Had  thus  consumed  the  whole  allotted  time, 
Had  not  the  Sibyl  her  companion  warned 
And  cut  him  short :  "  The  night  is  rushing  on, 
^neas,  and  we  waste  the  hours  in  tears. 
This  is  the  spot  where  parts  the  way  in  two :  70s 


192 


THE  iENEID. 


The  right  leads  up  to  mighty  Pluto's  walls,  — 

By  it  our  journey  to  Elysium  lies  ; 

The  left  inflicts  the  torments  of  the  damned, 

And  sends  them  down  to  hell."    Then  answered  back 

Deiphobus  :    "  Great  priestess,  chide  no  more.  710 

I  will  depart,  fill  my  allotted  place, 

And  to  the  shadows  render  me  again. 

Go,  go,  thou  glory  of  our  race !    Be  thine 

A  better  fate."    So  much  he  spake,  no  more ; 

Then  turned  upon  the  word  and  went  away.  715 

^neas  suddenly  looks  back  and  sees. 
Guarded  with  triple  walls,  a  stronghold  vast 
Beneath  the  cliffs  upon  his  left.    Round  it 
Hell's  rushing  river  Phlegethon  rolls  flames. 
And  whirls  a  roar  of  rocks  along.    In  front,  720 
Huge  gates,  their  posts  of  solid  adamant 
That  mortal  arm  nor  e'en  celestial  might 
Can  shatter,  stand.    An  iron  turret  mounts 
The  air,  and,  there  enthroned,  Tisiphone, 
Girt  in  her  bloody  robe,  guards  day  and  night  725 
With  sleepless  vigilance  the  vestibule. 
Thence  groans  are  heard,  the  cruel  lash,  the  clank 
Of  bolt  and  dragging  chains,    ^neas  stops, 
And  terror-struck  drinks  in  the  din.    "Tell  me, 
O  maid,"  he  cries,  "  what  manner  is't  of  crime,  730 
Or  what  the  punishment  it  undergoes  ? 
What  means  so  loud  a  wail  upon  the  air  ?  " 

Then  thus  the  prophetess  began  reply : 
Thou  glorious  leader  of  the  Trojans,  ne'er 
Can  guiltless  foot  tread  that  accursed  gate.  735 
Yet  Hecate,  when  to  me  she  did  comiTiit 


BOOK  VI. 


The  keeping  of  Avernus'  groves,  herself 

Taught  me  the  punishments  the  gods  inflict, 
And  told  me  all.    These  realms,  to  mercy  deaf, 
The  Cretan  Rhadamanthus  rules,  who  hears  740 
And  lashes  crime  :  whate'er  the  wrong  on  earth, 
Late  though  death  screen  it,,  vain  its  furtive  stealth  ! 
He  wrings  confession  out.  Tisiphone, 
With  scourge  uplift,  in  vengeance  reveling  there. 
Makes  quake  the  guilty  soul,  her  left  hand  thick  745 
With  loathsome  snakes,  while  to  her  side  she  calls 
The  grim  assemblage  of  her  sister  hags." 

At  last  on  shrieking  hinge  the  accursed  doors 
Are  open  thrown.    "See'st  thou,"  she  said,  "what 
guard 

Is  at  the  door  ?  what  shape  the  threshold  keeps  ?  750 

More  frightful  yet,  a  monster  hydra  sits 

Within,  its  fifty  black  jaws  yawning  wide : 

There  hell  itself  gapes  down  and  splits  the  gloom 

Twice  deeper  than  the  height  of  heaven's  blue  arch. 

The  ancient  brood  of  Earth,  the  Titan  clan,  7SS 

Writhe  in  its  pit,  there  struck  by  thunderbolts. 

The  monster  bodies  of  Aloeus'  twins 

Plere  have  I  seen,  who  dared  to  lift  their  hands 

To  rend  high  heaven  and  drag  down  Jupiter 

From  his  supernal  throne.    Here  have  I  seen  760 

Salmoneus  bear  his  cruel  punishment, 

Because  he  mocked  Jove's  lightnings  and  the  roar 

Of  thundering  Olympus.    He  it  was 

His  four-horse  chariot  drove  and  waved  a  torch, 

Exulting  as  he  swept  through  Elis  town  76s 

Amid  the  Grecian  populace,  and  bade 

13 


194 


THE  iENEID. 


Them  render  him  the  honors  due  the  gods. 

Mad  fool !  to  think  with  brazen  wheel  or  thud 

Of  horn-hoofed  steeds  to  counterfeit  the  storm, 

Or  the  inimitable  thunder-blast !  770 

The  Almighty  Father  through  the  gathering  gloom 

Hurled  down  the  bolt  —  no  fire-brand  that,  nor  blaze 

Of  smoky  torch  —  and  in  a  mighty  gust 

Caught  up  and  dashed  him  headlong  to  the  earth. 

There  might  one  Tityon  see,  the  foster-child  77s 

Of  the  all-mother  Earth :  his  body  lies 

Astretch  o'er  nine  broad  acres :  with  hooked  beak 

A  monster  vulture  at  his  liver  pecks, 

That  yet  ne'er  wastes,  —  his  entrails  that  still  grow 

To  longer  eke  his  punishment  j  on  these  780 

It  prowls  and  feasts,  and  o'er  his  vitals  haunts  ; 

Nor  ever  rests  the  flesh  that  cannot  die. 

Why  name  Ixion,  or  the  Lapithse, 

Or  that  Pirithoiis,  over  whom  the  flint. 

On  point  to  fall,  nay,  as  if  now  it  fell,  785 

Its  shadow  hangs  ?    Bright  shine  the  golden  feet 

On  which  the  lofty  banquet-couches  rest ; 

The  feast  with  royal  luxury  is  spread 

Before  their  very  eyes ;  but  close  at  hand 

Reclines  the  grandam  Fury  and  forbids  79a 

To  touch  the  table's  edge ;  her  face  she  lifts, 

And  roars  in  thunder  tones.    Here  too  are  they 

Who  cherished  brothers'  hate,  while  life  was  theirs, 

Or  parent  struck,  or  client's  trust  betrayed ; 

They,  too,  who  gloated  o'er  their  hoarded  wealth  795 

Nor  shared  it  with  their  kin.    But  more  by  far 

Are  they  who  for  adultery  were  killed  j 


BOOK  VL 


And  who  took  up  unhallowed  arms,  and  dared 

Their  duty  to  their  masters  violate. 

Endungeoned  here,  their  sentence  they  abide  :  ^ 

Bid  me  not  tell  what  sentence  'tis,  nor  how, 

Nor  where  it  overwhelms  their  souls.    Some  roll 

Huge  rocks  or  hang  outstretched  on  spokes 

Of  wheels.    There  sits  and  will  forever  sit 

The  wretched  Theseus,  while  more  wretched  still  ^5 

Hear  Phlegya's  warning  cry  amid  the  gloom,  — 

Learn  reverence  by  me  and  fear  the  gods. 

Here  he  who  sold  his  native  land  for  gold, 

Imposed  on  it  the  tyrant's  yoke,  and  made 

And  unmade  laws,  and  had  his  price.    Here  he 

Who  spoiled  his  daughter's  bed — unnatural  lust; 

And  here  all  they  who  monstrous  deeds  have  dared, 

And  mastered  what  they  dared.    Not  if  I  had 

A  hundred  tongues,  a  hundred  mouths,  a  voice 

Of  iron,  could  I  sum  up  all  their  crimes,  ^15 

Or  all  their  penalties  go  o'er  by  name." 

The  long-lived  priestess  of  Apollo  thus : 
"But  now  take  up  thy  way,"  she  cries;  "complete 
The  task  thou  hast  in  hand,  and  let  us  haste. 
The  walls  by  Cyclops'  forges  wrought  I  see,  820 
The  portal's  arch  in  front  where  we  were  bid 
To  lay  our  offering."    Then  side  by  side 
Along  the  shadowy  paths  they  quickly  snatch 
The  intervening  space,  and  reach  the  gates, 
^neas  at  the  entrance  lingers  yet,  825 
Sprinkles  his  body  with  fresh  water  there, 
And  fixes  in  the  door  the  sacred  branch. 

When  these  are  done  and  presentation  made 


196 


THE  iENEID. 


Unto  the  goddess  of  the  gift  they  brought, 
They  come  into  the  happy  quietudes,  830 
The  pleasant  verdure  of  the  blissful  groves, 
Home  of  the  blest.    The  air  is  purer  here. 
And  clothes  the  fields  with  brighter  light.   Their  own, 
Who  dwell  there,  are  the  sun  and  stars.    Some  try 
Their  strength  within  the  grassy  wrestling-ring,  ^35 
In  sports  engage,  and  on  the  yellow  sand 
Contend ;  while  others  trip  the  echoing  dance 
And  raise  the  song.    In  flowing  robes  the  bard 
Of  Thrace  the  gamut  sweeps  and  strikes  his  lyre 
Or  with  his  finger  or  with  ivory  style.  ^40 

Here  are  old  Teucer's  scions,  noble  stock : 
Heroes  of  mighty  soul,  the  golden  age 
Was  theirs.    Here  Ilus,  and  Assaracus, 
And  Dardanus  the  establisher  of  Troy. 
Afar,  yEneas  wondering  sees  the  arms,  ^45 
The  empty  chariots  of  the  chiefs :  their  spears 
Stand  planted  in  the  ground,  and  here  and  there 
Feed  their  unbridled  steeds  along  the  mead. 
Whate'er  the  love  of  chariot  or  of  arms 
In  life,  or  taste  to  keep  the  glossy  steed,  ^so 
The  same  goes  with  them  buried  underground. 
Yet  others  right  and  left  upon  the  turf 
He  sees  afeast,  or  singing,  as  they  dance, 
Exulting  paeans  'mid  sweet  laurel  groves, 
Whence,  flooding  down,  the  Po  flows  through  the 
wood.  ^ss 

Here  they  who,  fighting  for  their  country,  earned 
Their  scars ;  priests  of  pure  lives  while  life  did  last  j 
Here  holy  prophets  of  Apollo,  who 


BOOK  VI. 


197 


Spake  as  the  god  would  have  them  speak.    Here  they 
Whose  wise  inventions  bettered  human  life, 
And  who  have  earned  the  memory  of  their  race, 
Each  wreathed  with  snow-white  fillets  round  his  brow. 
Thus  to  the  clustering  throng  the' Sibyl  speaks, 
Singling  Musaeus  from  the  rest,  for  he 
Stands  in  the  centre  of  the  group,  that  lifts 
Its  gaze  in  wonder  as  his  shoulders  tower 
Above  them  all :  "  Tell  me,  ye  blissful  souls, 
And  thou,  the  best  of  bards,  in  what  retreat, 
What  spot  Anchises  dwells.    We  for  his  sake 
Have   hither  come    and    crossed    hell's  mighty 
floods."  870 
Thus  briefly  back  the  hero  answered  her : 
"  No  fixed  abode  doth  any  have.    We  haunt 
The  shadows  of  the  woods,  and  find  a  couch 
Upon  the  river  banks,  and  rove  o'er  meads 
That  freshen  with  the  brooks.    Yet  if  indeed  ^75 
Your  hearts'  desire  be  thither,  mount  yon  hill ; 
Thence  will  I  guide  you  by  an  easy  path." 
He  spake,  and  led  the  way.    The  shining  fields 
From  the  hill's  top  he  points :  thence  they  descend. 

Meanwhile  the  sire  Anchises,  lost  in  thought, 
Mused  on  the  souls  that  cluster  deep  within 
That  verdant  dale,  ere  yet  to  upper  air 
They  shall  return.    Perchance  he  counted  o'er 
The  list  of  all  his  kin,  his  offspring  dear, 
The  fates,  the  destinies,  the  characters  ^^s 
And  deeds  heroic  of  the  men  to  be. 
But  when  he  saw  ^neas  o'er  the  lawn 
And  full  in  view  approach,  he  eagerly 


198 


THE  ^NEID. 


Stretched  both  hands  out,  tears  streaming  down  his 
cheeks, 

While  burst  his  lips  in  speech  :  "  Hast  come  at  last, 
And  hath  the  love  thy  father  witnessed  oft 
O'ercome  the  rugged  way  that  leads  thee  here  ? 
Thanks  to  the  gods,  I  see  thy  face,  my  son, 
And  hear  and  answer  in  familiar  tones. 
It  was  but  now,  o'errunning  in  my  mind  '95 
The  reckoning  of  the  time,  I  seemed  to  feel 
It  would  be  so,  nor  was  my  heart  at  fault. 
What  lands,  what  seas  hast  crossed  that  I  behold 
Thee  here,  my  son  ?    What  perils  racked  thy  bark  ? 
I  feared  lest  Libya's  realm  should  do  thee  harm."  900 
^neas  answered  him :  "  Father,  thy  ghost. 
Thy  sad  ghost  'twas  oft  came,  and  guided  me 
Into  these  paths.    The  fleet  at  anchor  rides 
Upon  the  Tuscan  sea.    Thy  right  hand  clasp, 
Clasp,  father,  in  my  own ;  nor  draw  thou  back  905 
From  my  embrace."    And  while  he  spake,  his  face 
Was  deluged  with  his  tears.    Thrice  he  essayed 
To  throw  his  arms  about  his  father's  neck : 
Like  the  light  wind  or  like  a  flitting  dream. 
Thrice  fled  the  ghost  the  hands  that  clutched  on 
naught.  910 
Meantime,  within  an  angle  of  the  vale, 
^neas  sees  a  far  secluded  grove, 
Its  sylvan  foliage  rustling  in  the  breeze, 
And  Lethe  gliding  past  its  still  retreats. 
Here  flitted  in  and  out  throngs  numberless  915 
Of  every  race  and  tribe ;  as  in  the  fields 
In  cloudless  summer-time,  from  flower  to  flower 


BOOK  VL 


199 


The  bees  fly  forth  and  swarm  the  lilies  white, 

While  all  the  meadow  murmurs  with  the  hum. 

Struck  at  the  sight  ^neas  stops,  and  asks  920 

In  wonder  what  it  means  —  what  stream  is  there  — . 

And  who  are  they  who  cluster  so  its  banks. 

Father  Anchises  answers  him  :  "  'Tis  souls, 

Fated  to  yet  another  mortal  coil, 

That  now  at  Lethe's  flood  nepenthe  quaff  92s 

And  deep  oblivion.    Long  have  I  desired 

To  tell  thee  of  them,  bring  them  to  thy  eyes. 

And  number  thee  the  offspring  of  my  loins. 

That  so  the  more  thou  may'st  with  me  rejoice 

Now  Italy  is  found."    "But  must  I,  sire,  930 

Believe  me  then  that  souls,  uplifted  hence, 

Go  back  to  upper  air,  and  are  returned 

Into  the  weary  flesh  ?    Is  love  of  life 

So  strong  in  hearts  that  once  its  pangs  have  known  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  will  make  it  plain  to  thee,  my  son,  935 

Nor  keep  thee  in  suspense,"  Anchises  says. 

And  in  its  order  everything  explains. 

"  In  the  beginning  came  the  breath  of  life 
That  from  within  sustains  the  sky  and  earth. 
The  liquid  sea,  the  moon's  resplendent  orb,  940 
The  sun  and  stars.    Infused  through  all  its  veins. 
Mind  thrills  the  universe  and  throbs  through  all 
Its  frame.    Thence  men  and  flocks,  fowls  of  the  air, 
And  whatsoever  shapes  the  sea  brings  forth 
Beneath  its  glittering  tide.    A  spark  divine,  945 
The  energy  of  fire,  is  in  these  seeds, 
Though  yet  our  sickly  bodies  quell  their  growth, 
Cramped  by  this  coil  of  flesh,  these  wasting  limbs. 


THE  ^NEID. 


Hence  spring  desire  and  fear,  hence  joy  and  grief : 

The  soul,  in  prison-cell  and  darkness  shut,  950 

Ne'er  heeds  the  heaven  from  which  it  sprang.  Nay,  e'en 

When  life's  last  glimmer  fades,  not  all  the  ill, 

Not^every  pest  infibred  in  our  wretched  lives. 

Is  sloughed ;  many  and  long  inured,  they  needs 

Must  cling,  still  rooting  wonderfully  in ;  955 

And  therefore  are  they  purged  by  punishment 

To  pay  the  penalty  of  former  wrongs. 

Some  hang  laid  open  to  the  idle  winds. 

From  some  the  infection  of  their  crimes  is  washed 

With  floods  of  water  out,  or  burnt  with  fire.  960 

We  suffer  each  the  afterdeath  we  earn. 

Through  wide  Elysium  next  we  go,  and  reach 

At  last,  in  number  few,  the  abodes  of  bliss. 

There  length  of  days,  time's  circuit  perfected. 

Blots  out  the  ingrown  stain  and  leaves  undrossed  96s 

The  ethereal  soul,  the  pure  essential  spark. 

These  ghosts  thou  see'st,  when  they  a  thousand  years 

Have  onward  rolled  the  wheel  of  time,  the  god 

Summons  in  mighty  throngs  to  Lethe's  flood, 

Whence  they  oblivious  back  to  earth  return,  970 

Inclined  once  more  to  put  the  body  on." 

Anchises  leads  the  Sibyl  and  his  son. 

As  thus  he  speaks,  where  thickest  is  the  throng 

And  loud  the  hum,  and  stands  upon  a  knoll 

Whence,  as  in  long  array  they  pass  in  front,  975 

He  may  survey  them  one  by  one  and  make 

Acquaintance  with  the  faces  that  approach. 

"  And  now  give  ear  while  I  thy  destiny 
Unfold,  and  tell  what  glory  doth  await 


BOOK  VI. 


20T 


The  Trojan  race ;  what  offspring  shall  arise  980 
From  out  the  Italian  stock ;  what  souls  shall  yet 
Add  lustre  to  our  name  in  time  td  come. 

"  Yon  youth,  that  on  his  headless  spear  doth  lean, 
Is  destined  next  to  see  the  light ;  he  first 
Shall  rise  to  upper  air,  and  rnix  the  blood  985 
Of  Italy  with  thine  —  thy  latest  child, 
And  Silvius  is  his  Alban  name.    Him  late, 
When  thou  art  old,  thy  wife  Lavinia  then 
Shall  in  the  forest  bear,  to  be  a  king  '' 
And  sire  of  kings  through  whom  our  race  shall  rule  990 
O'er  Alba  Longa.    Next  him  Procas  stands. 
An  honor  to  the  Trojan  stock :  Capys, 
And  Numitor :  yEneas  Silvius  there, 
Alike  illustrious  he  in  piety  ' 
And  arms,  in  whose  name  thou  shalt  live  once  more  995 
Whene'er  he  to  his  own  shall  come  again 
And  rule  o'er  Alba.    See  !  what  youths  they  are  ! 
What  manliness  is  theirs !    Next,  they,  who  lift 
Their  temples  with  the  civic  oak-leaf  crowned. 
Shall  for  thee  found  Nomentum,  Gabii, 
The  city  of  Fidena :  they  shall  build 
Upon  the  mountain-top  Collatia's  towers, 
Pometii,  Bola,  Cora,  and  the  hold 
Of  Inuus  :  such  then  shall  be  their  name  ; 
Now  are  they  lands  without  a  name.   Nay,  look !  ^°°5 
There,  at  his  grandsire's  side,  comes  Romulus, 
Who  hath  in  him  the  blood  of  Mars,  and  whom 
His  mother  Ilia  shall  give  birth,  herself  ^  ^ 

Of  Trojan  stock.  Dost  note  upon  his  head 
The  double  crest  ?    The  Father  of  the  gods 


202 


THE  ^NEID. 


With  his  own  grace  hath  him  already  marked. 

By  him  inspired  shall  glorious  Rome,  O  son, 

Her  empire  measure  by  the  ends  of  earth, 

Her  daring  by  the  pinnacle  of  heaven. 

Her  walls  alone  shall  circle  seven  high  hills  —  »o»5 

In  her  heroic  children  blessed  as  is 

The  Berecynthian  mother  of  the  gods, 

Who,  proud  of  such  a  womb,  rides  turret-crowned 

Through  Phrygia's  cities  in  her  chariot  borne 

To  greet  her  hundred  grandsons,  all  enthroned  ^^^o 

And  dwellers  on  the  lofty  heights  of  heaven. 

Here,  here  direct  thine  eyes :  look  on  this  stock, 

These  Romans  —  all  thine  own.    Caesar  is  here; 

And  all  who  from  lulus  spring,  and  who 

Are  yet  to  come  'neath  heaven's  high  canopy. 

This,  this  is  he,  the  man  thou  hast  so  oft 

Heard  promised  thee, —  Augustus  Caesar,  son 

Unto  a  god.    He  shall  in  Latium  yet 

The  golden  age  restore  throughout  the  land 

Where  Saturn  once  was  king :  his  empire  he  ^°3o 

Shall  limit  nor  by  Garamant  nor  Ind ; 

But  his  domain  beyond  the  stars  shall  reach. 

Beyond  the  year's  great  pathway  of  the  sun, 

Where  Atlas  on  his  shoulders  lifts  and  turns 

The  heavens  with  glittering  constellations  gemmed.  ^°35 

E'en  now,  at  his  approach,  the  Caspian  realms 

Shudder  to  hear  the  warnings  of  the  gods. 

While  quake  the  borders  of  the  Euxine  sea. 

The  frightened  seven-mouthed  outlets  of  the  Nile 

Ne'er  Hercules  so  wide  a  circuit  ranged, 

Though  he  the  brazen-footed  hind  transfixed, 


BOOK  VI. 


203 


The  groves  of  Erymanthus  freed  from  fear, 

And  made  the  Hydra  cower  before  his  shaft : 

Nor  Bacchus,  though  victorious  forth  he  drove 

His  span  of  tigers  from  high  Nysa's  top  »°45 

And  lashed  them  with  a  vine-leaf  for  a  rein. 

Doubt  we  henceforth  our  valor  into  deeds 

To  put,  or  fear  to  root  in  Italy  ? 

"  But  who  is  yon,  crowned  with  the  olive-leaf, 
That  bears  the  sacred  wares  ?    I  recognize  ^°5o 
The  locks,  the  gray  beard  of  that  king  of  Rome 
Who  first  shall  found  the  city  on  the  base 
Of  law,  and  rise  from  Cures'  humble  town 
And  low  estate  to  mighty  sovereignty. 
Tullus  shall  follow  him  ;  from  its  repose  "ss 
His  country  rouse,  and  stir  to  arms  again 
The  slumbering  populace,  the  ranks  now  long 
Unused  to  triumph  on  the  field.    Next  him, 
Ancus,  too  wont  to  boast,  too  eager  he 
To  ring  his  praises  in  the  people's  ears. 
Would'st  thou  behold  the  Tarquin  kings,  the  stern 
Avenger  Brutus'  soul,  the  fasces  wrenched 
From  tyrant's  grasp  ?    He  of  the  Romans  first 
To  hold  the  consulship,  to  wield  its  badge  — 
The  heartless  axe  —  and,  father  though  he  be,  ^°^5 
Condemn  to  death,  for  freedom's  dearer  sake, 
His  sons  rebelling  'gainst  the  commonwealth ! 
Unhappy  sire  !  yet,  let  posterity 
Regard  the  deed  howe'er  it  may,  the  love 
Of  native  land,  the  measureless  desire  -  »7« 

To  win  the  meed  of  praise,  shall  conquer  all. 
There  too  the  Decii,  there  the  Drusi  see  ! 


204 


THE  .ENEID. 


Torquatus  spares  not  e'en  his  son  the  axe : 
Camillus  wrests  our  banners  from  the  foe. 
But  they,  whose  arms  flash  on  thy  sight  alike,  "075 
United  now  the  while  their  souls  are  shades, 
Alas !  the  wars,  the  battle-fields,  the  blood 
Between  them  they  shall  answer  for,  if  e'er 
They  reach  the  light  of  day !  Father-in-law 
The  one,  who  from  the  Alpine  hills  comes  down 
And  from  Monoecus'  heights ;  his  son-in-law 
Confronting  him  with  squadrons  from  the  East. 
Whet  not  your  souls  to  such  malignant  strife, 
O  youths,  nor  turn  your  manhood's  energies 
Against  the  vitals  of  your  native  land !  ^°*s 
And  be  thou  first  to  spare  her,  thou  who  dost, 
Blood  of  my  blood,  from  heaven  derive  thy  birth  ; 
Cast  thou  at  once  thy  weapons  from  thy  hands  ! 

"  Stands  next,  who  to  the  lofty  Capitol 
Shall  ride  in  triumph  over  Corinth's  fall.  ^090 
Next,  who,  avenger  of  his  Trojan  sires 
And  of  Minerva's  desecrated  shrines, 
Now  razes  Argos  and  Mycenae,  home 
Of  Agamemnon,  —  nay,  in  triumph  leads 
^acides  again,  the  very  kin  ^°9S 
E'en  of  Achilles  peerless  on  the  field. 

"  Thy  name,  great  Cato,  who  shall  fail  to  speak  ? 
Or,  Cossius,  thine?    Or  Gracchus  and  his  sons? 
Or  the  two  Scipios,  twin  thunderbolts 
Of  war,  and  scourge  of  Africa?    Or  that 
Fabricius,  he  whose  poverty  was  power? 
Or  Cincinnatus  sowing  in  his  fields  ? 
Whither  do  ye  not  tempt  me,  Fabii, 


BOOK  VI. 


205 


Though  I  already  falter  at  the  task  ? 

That  Maximus  art  thou,  who  —  none  else  can  —  "os 

Sav'st  Rome  by  biding  all  and  risking  naught. 

I  doubt  not  other  lands  shall  finer  mould 

The  bronze  until  it  breathe,  or  marble  cut 

To  lineaments  that  live,  or  better  plead 

A  cause,  or  with  the  rod  the  astronomy  iiio\ 

Of  heaven  describe  and  name  the  rising  stars ; 

But,  son  of  Rome,  remember  it  is  thine 

To  stretch  thy  empire  o'er  the  human  race. 

This  be  thy  aim,  —  to  dictate  terms  of  peace, 

The  vanquished  spare,  but  bring  the  haughty  low."  "^s 

Father  Anchises  thus  ;  then  added,  while 
Their  wonder  grew :  "  Lo !  there  Marcellus  comes, 
Illustrious  with  triumphal  trophies  won. 
In  victory  topping  o'er  all  other  men. 
He  is  the  knight  who,  when  wild  panics-  threat,  "2° 
Upholds  the  Roman  state :  'tis  he  who  routs 
The  Carthaginians  and  the  rebel  Gauls, 
And  is  the  third  who  hangs  to  Father  Jove 
Arms  captured  from  the  leader  of  the  foe." 

^Eneas  here  breaks  in ;  for,  he  beholds,  "^s 
There  walking  at  Marcellus'  side,  a  youth 
Whose  shape  is  grace  itself,  whose  armor  shines, 
Yet  all  too  faint  the  gladness  on  his  brow. 
And  sad  the  lustre  of  his  eyes :  "  O,  sire, 
Who  is't  that  saunters  at  the  hero's  side  ?  "30 
His  son  ?  some  grandson  of  that  glorious  stock  ? 
How  close  his  comrades  throng  !    How  in  himself 
A  paragon  !  yet  round  his  head  e'en  now 
Death's  shadow  hovers  with  its  boding  wings." 


2o6 


THE  ^NEID. 


Anchises  then,  tears  gushing  from  his  eyes,  "35 
Thus  answers  him :  "Wake  not,  my  son,  the  grief 
That  o'er  thy  children  hangs  so  heavily. 
Fate  doth  but  show  him  to  the  world  —  no  more. 
Too  mighty  had  ye  deemed  the  Roman  seed, 
Ye  gods,  gave  ye  this  fruitage  for  its  own.  "^o 
What  groans  from  out  the  people's  heart  of  hearts 
Shall  Campus  Martins  echo  back  to  Rome ! 
What  funeral  rites  shalt  thou,  O  Tiber,  see, 
When  thou  shalt  wash  the  fresh  turf  on  his  grave  ! 
No  son  of  Trojan  stock  shall  ever  lift  "^s 
The  Latin  fathers'  hopes  so  high  :  nor  e'er 
The  land  of  Romulus  so  pride  itself 
On  nursling  of  its  breast.    Ah  me,  what  truth. 
What  honor  of  the  olden  time  in  him  ! 
His  good  right  hand  invincible  in  war,  "5° 
All  had  gone  down  before  him  in  the  fight, 
Whether  on  foot  he  flung  him  on  the  foe. 
Or  ploughed  with  spurs  his  foaming  charger's  flanks ! 
Alas !  poor  boy,  if  ever  thou  canst  burst 
Fate's  fetters  through,  Marcellus  shalt  thou  be !  "ss 
Fling  lilies  with  o'erflowing  hands,  and  let 
Me  strew  his  grave  with  violets,  at  least 
These  honors  showering  o'er  my  grandson's  shade. 
And  rendering  him  the  service  to  the  dead." 

So  stray  they  here  and  there  the  whole  realm 
o'er  "60 
Through  fields  of  airy  space,  and  all  survey. 
And  as  Anchises  to  his  son  unfolds 
Scene  after  scene,  and  fires  his  soul  with  thirst 
For  glory  yet  to  come,  he  tells  him  too 


BOOK  VI. 


207 


Of  wars  that  must  be  waged,  instructing  him  "^s 
Anent  the  inhabitants  of  Latium's  soil, 
The  city  of  Latinus,  and  how  best 
To  meet  or  fly  each  peril  as  it  comes. 

Two  gates  hath  Sleep :  one  said  to  be  of  horn, 
Whence  the  true  dream  wings  easily  its  flight;  "70 
The  other  out  of  pure  bright  ivory  wrought,  , 
Whence  send  the  dead  false  dreams  into  the  world : 
So  when  Anchises,  talking  all  the  way, 
Thus  far  attends  the  Sibyl  and  his  son, 
He  gives  them  exit  by  the  ivory  gate.  "17J 
^neas  hastens  to  the  fleet,  rejoins 
His  men,  and  coasts  the  shore  straight  to  the  port 
Of  Caieta.    There  at  anchor  ride 
The  prows :  the  sterns  are  beached  upon  the  sand. 


SEVENTH  BOOK. 


"XTURSE  of  ^neas,  Cai'eta,  thou 

^     In  death  didst  give  our  shores  eternal  fame 
Still  there  thy  honor  keeps  its  hold,  and  still 
Thy  name,  if  that  be  glory,  marks  the  spot 
Where  in  great  Italy  thy  bones  were  laid. 
There  duly  paid  thy  funeral  obsequies. 
The  turf  raised  o'er  thy  grave,  soon  as  the  deep 
Is  calm,  ^neas  wings  his  way  and  leaves 
The  port  behind.    Stiffens  the  wind  at  night ; 
Along  his  course  the  moon  shines  full  and  fair, 
And  the  sea  gleams  beneath  its  trembling  sheen. 

The  coast  of  Circe's  land  is  skirted  next, 
Where  that  luxurious  daughter  of  the  sun 
With  ceaseless  singing  fills  the  fatal  groves. 
And  'neath  her  proud  roof,  to  illume  the  night, 
The  fragrant  cedar  burns  while  shrilly  flies 
Her  shuttle  through  the  slender  web.    From  off 
The  land  you  hear  the  angry  lions  roar, 
Shaking  their  chains  and  howling  late  at  night : 
Rage  bristling  swine  and  prisoned  bears,  and  loud 
Bark  monstrous  wolves  :  all  these  by  potent  herbs 
The  cruel  goddess  Circe  hath  transformed 
From  human  forms  into  the  face  and  shape 
Of  savage  beasts.    Lest  the  good  Trojans  too. 
Into  her  harbor  driven  or  drawing  near 
A  coast  so  dire,  the  selfsame  horrors  share, 


i 


Circe  and  the  Companions  of  Ulysses. 

Briton  Riviere. 


BOOK  VII. 


209 


Neptune  with  fair  winds  fills  their  sails,  swift  speeds 
Their  flight,  and  lifts  them  o'er  the  fervid  shoals. 

The  sea  was  reddening  with  the  morning  sun. 
And  from  her  airy  height  shone  ruddy  down  30 
Aurora  in  her  rosy  car,  when  lo  ! 
The  wind  grew  calm,  not  e'en  a  breath  did  stir. 
Nor  e'er  a  ripple  wrestled  with  the  oar. 
From  off  the  deep  ^neas  looks  and  sees 
A  thick  wood,  out  of  which  with^eddies  swift  3S 
The  Tiber's  grateful  stream  leaps  to  the  sea. 
Yellow  with  drifts  of  sand.    Birds  of  all  hues 
Haunt  at  and  o'er  its  banks  and  bed,  charm  all 
The  air  with  song,  and  fly  from  tree  to  tree. 
He  bids  his  men  bear  in  and  make  the  shore,  40 
And  eagerly  ascends  the  shady  stream. 

Help,  Muse,  of  Love,  while  now  I  sing  the  kings, 
The  times,  the  state  of  things  in  Latium  old, 
Wh^n  first  the  shores  of  Italy  this  band 
Of  strangers  trod,  and  how  the  fight  began  !  4s 
Do  thou,  O  goddess,  fire  thy  bard !    Grim  wars 
Will  be  my  song,  and  battle-fields,  the  kings 
Whose  valor  spurred  them  to  the  death,  the  troops 
Of  Tuscany,  and  all  Hesperia's  soil 
Ablaze  with  arms.    A  loftier  chord  I  strike  j  5° 
A  nobler  theme  I  dare. 

An  old  man  now, 
Latinus,  king,  long  time  had  ruled  the  lands 
And  cities  of  his  realm  in  tranquil  peace, 
Son,  it  is  said,  of  Faunus  and  the  nymph  ss 
Marica  of  Laurentum.    Faunus'  sire 
Was  Picus,  who  himself  claimed  parentage 
14 


2IO 


THE  ^NEID. 


From  thee,  O  Saturn,  founder  of  the  line. 
Gods'  will  it  was  this  king  no  issue  male, 
No  son  should  have;  none  bloomed  that  was  not 
snatched 

Away  ere  youth  did  bud.    His  mighty  realm 

And  race  hung  on  one  only  daughter's  fate, 

Ripe  now  to  wed,  just  flowered  to  womanhood. 

From  wide  o'er  Latium  and  all  Italy 

Sought  many  a  one  her  hand.    Seeks  Turnus  it,  ^5 

The  handsomest  of  all,  noble  by  link 

On  link  of  ancestry.    Him  the  king's  wife 

Strove  with  all  zeal  to  make  her  son-in-law. 

By  manifold  dread  signs  the  gods  forbade. 

Midway  the  palace  in  the  inner  court,  70 
Now  reverently  kept  for  many  years, 
A  laurel  tree  its  sacred  foliage  waved. 
Father  Latinus,  so  'tis  said,  himself. 
When  he  foundations  for  the  temple  laid, 
Found  and  to  Phoebus  consecrated  it,  75 
And  thence  the  name  Laurentum  gave  to  all 
That  land.    Hither,  strange  tale  to  tell,  a  hive 
Of  bees,  loud  buzzing  through  the  clear  air,  came 
And  clustered  in  its  top,  till  suddenly 
From  off  a  leafy  bough  hung  foot  to  foot  s° 
The  swarm.    At  once  the  prophet  cried :  "  Behold, 
A  stranger  comes !    Whither  and  whence  the  bees, 
So  strangers  swarm  to  rule  our  citadel." 

While  near  her  sire  the  maid  Lavinia  stood, 
As  she  too  fed  the  shrines  with  sacred  fires, 
They  saw  her  flowing  tresses  catch  the  blaze 
Alas !  and  burn  all  ringed  with  crackling  flame. 


BOOK  VII. 


2TI 


;^er  royal  locks  and  diadem  of  gems 

On  fire,  she  stood  enwreathed  in  smoke,  amid 

A  yellow  halo,  while  the  sparks  o'er  all  9o 

The  palace  flew.    Startling  and  wonderful 

Indeed  the  sight :  her,  so  the  augurs  said, 

Fame  and  the  fates  would  make  illustrious  yet ; 

But  to  the  land  it  meant  a  mighty  war. 

The  king,  moved  by  these  signs,  the  oracles  95 
Of  Faunus  his  prophetic  sire  consults. 
And  seeks  the  groves  by  deep  Albunea's  fount, 
Where  in  the  thickest  of  the  forest  purls 
A  sacred  spring,  and  from  its  gloomy  damps 
A  baleful  vapor  breathes.    'Tis  in  this  spot 
The  Italian  tribes  and  all  Enotria  come 
For  guidance  when  in  doubt.    Hither  a  priest 
His  offering  brings,  and  'neath  the  silent  night 
Lies  on  his  bed  of  skins  of  victim  sheep. 
That  he  may  dream.    Then  sees  he  many  ghosts 
That  strangely  flit,  and  varied  voices  hears. 
Enjoys  the  conversation  of  the  gods. 
And  speaks  the  deities  of  lowest  hell. 
Here  also  now  father  Latinus  sought 
Response  ;  a  hundred  sheep  he  sacrificed,  "<» 
And  on  their  skins  and  fleeces  made  his  bed. 
Quick  came  a  voice  from  out  the  forest  gloom  : 
"  Seek  not  to  wed  thy  daughter,  son  of  mine. 
To  Latin  lord.    Trust  not  the  intended  match. 
From  foreign  shores  a  son-in-law  shall  come  "s 
Whose  seed  our  glory  to  the  stars  shall  bear, 
Whose  sons  shall  see  all  lands  from  shore  to  shore, 
On  which  at  rise  or  set  the  sun  looks  down. 


212 


THE  ^NEID. 


Submissive  at  their  feet,  and  ruled  by  them." 

Nor  did  Latinus  lock  his  lips  upon  "° 

His  father  Faunus'  words  and  warnings  given 

In  the  still  night ;  but  rumor  flying  fast 

Already  through  the  Italian  towns  did  spread 

Them  far  and  wide,  e'en  while  the  Trojan  youths 

Moored  to  the  river's  grassy  bank  their  boats.  '^5 

Beneath  the  foliage  of  a  lofty  tree, 
^neas  and  his  chiefs  and  the  fair  boy 
lulus  laid  them  down.    They  spread  the  feast. 
Along  the  turf  for  platters  for  their  food 
Ranged  wheaten  cakes  —  'twas  Jove  suggested  it — 
And  heaped  wild  fruits  upon  this  cereal  board. 
And  when  the  rest  was  eaten,  and  then  the  want 
Of  more  to  eat  compelled  them  set  their  teeth 
Into  this  scanty  stock  and  violate 
With  touch  and  reckless  taste  the  fatal  crust,  '35 
With  not  a  single  quarter  of  the  round 
To  spare,  "  Woe's  me  !  we  eat  our  trenchers,"  cried 
lulus,  laughed  and  said  no  more.    That  word, 
Soon  as  they  heard  it,  marked  their  wanderings'  end. 
His  father  caught  it  from  his  speaking  lips, 
Awed  at  the  providence  too  much  to  speak. 
But  soon  he  cried  :  "  Hail  to  the  land  that  fate 
Hath  owed  me  long !    Hail,  too,  ye  faithful  gods 
Of  Troy  !    This  is  our  home,  our  country  this ! 
I  mind  me  now,  my  sire  Anchises  left 
Just  this  phase  of  my  destiny  obscure  : 
When  driven  upon  an  unknown  shore,  my  son, 
Thy  food  cut  ojf^,  hunger  shall  force  thee  eat 
Thy  trenchers  too,  remember  thou,  he  said, 


BOOK  VII. 


213 


'However  weary ^  then  and  there  to  hope  *so 

To  find  thy  home,  and  there  lay  deep  thy  walls 

And  guard  them  well.    The  hunger  that  he  meant 

Is  this.    This  test,  that  lingered  last  of  all, 

Will  now  a  limit  to  our  sufferings  put. 

Up  then  !  and  merrily  at  break  of  day  ^55 

Let  us  find  out  what  tract  of  land  it  is, 

Who  dwell  on  it,  and  where  the  city  lies, 

Each  following  from  the  por^t  his  separate  way. 

Now  pour  the  bowl  to  Jove ;  invoke  with  prayers 

Anchises  sire,  and  crown  the  board  with  wine." 

So  spake,  and  wreathing  leaves  around  his  head, 
Prayed  to  the  Genius  of  the  place,  to  Earth 
The  mother  of  the  gods,  to  nymphs  and  streams 
Unknown  till  then ;  then  one  by  one  invoked 
Night,  and  the  Night's  uprising  stars,  and  Jove  '^s 
Of  Ida,  and  the  Phrygian  Cybele, 
And  both  his  parents,  one  above  and  one 
Below.    At  this  the  Almighty  Father  thrice 
Loud  thundered  from  his  heavenly  height,  and  flashed 
From  his  quick-darting  hand  from  forth  the  sky  ^70 
A  cloud  that  flamed  with  fire  and  gold.    At  once 
A  rumor  'mongst  the  Trojans  spreads  that  now 
The  time  hath  come  when  they  their  promised  walls 
May  lay.    On  goes  the  feast,  and  full  of  mirth 
They  gayly  lift  the  glass  and  crown  the  wine.  ^75 

At  daybreak  when  with  light  the  morrow  spans 
The  earth,  they  go  apart  to  find  what  sort 
Of  city,  country,  shore  or  race  it  is. 
They  find  the  streams  from  Fount  Numicus  flow, 
The  river  is  the  Tiber,  and  that  here  «8o 


214 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  valiant  Latins  live.    Thereat,  forthwith 

^neas  bids  a  hundred  envoys,  picked 

From  every  grade,  with  olive-branches  crowned. 

Go  to  the  stately  palace  of  the  king. 

Bear  gifts  to  him,  and  for  the  Trojans  ask 

A  truce.    No  moment  lost,  they  haste  his  will 

To  do,  and  rapidly  move  on,  while  he 

Marks  out  his  city  by  a  narrow  ditch. 

Makes  strong  the  place,  and,  settling  on  the  shore. 

Surrounds  it  like  a  fort  with  mounds  and  wings. 

And  now  their  journey  done,  the  ambassadors 
Arrive  in  sight  of  Latium's  lofty  towers 
And  roofs,  and  make  its  walls.    Before  the  town. 
Boys  and  just  budding  youths  on  horses  ride. 
Their  chariots  drive  mid  clouds  of  dust,  or  draw  ^9S 
The  twanging  bow,  or  hurl  the  slender  lance. 
Each  other  challenging  to  run  or  strike ; 
When  quick  a  mounted  messenger  reports 
To  the  old  king's  ears  that  mighty  men  approach 
In  stranger  garb.    He  bids  to  bring  them  in,  ^oo 
And  mid  them  sits  on  his  ancestral  throne. 

Upon  the  summit  of  the  city  stood. 
High  on  a  hundred  columns  raised,  a  dome 
Spacious  and  grand,  the  royal  palace  once 
Of  Picus  of  Laurentum,  gloomed  with  shade 
And  with  the  holy  mysteries  of  eld. 
Happy  the  king  who  here  assumed  the  crown, 
Or  here  the  sceptre  first  did  lift.    To  such, 
This  temple  was  his  court.    Here  sacred  feasts 
Were  held ;  and  here,  the  victim  killed,  long  sat  ^lo 
Our  fathers  at  the  board.    Nay,  e'en  there  stood, 


BOOK  VII. 


Within  the  vestibule  in  order  ranged, 

The  images  of  far-back  ancestors 

Carved  from  old  cedar.    There  stood  Italus ; 

Father  Sabinus,  planter  of  the  vine,  ^15 

Who  leaned  upon  the  scythe  beneath  his  hand ; 

The  old  man  Saturn ;  and  the  double  face 

Of  Janus.    Other  kings  were  there,  e'en  from 

The  earliest  times,  scarred  with  brave  wounds  they  won 

In  fighting  for  their  country.    Many  arms  ^20 

There  also  were,  hung  to  l/he  sacred  posts, 

Chariots  in  battle  taken,  axes  curved. 

The  crests  of  helmets,  massive  bolts  of  gates. 

Darts,  shields,  and  brazen  beaks  from  galleys  torn. 

Horse-tamer  Picus  with  his  prophet's  wand,  "5 

His  scanty  robe  girt  in,  here  sat  and  held 

In  his  left  hand  a  shield.    Struck  by  her  rod 

Of  gold,  and  by  her  poisons  shaped  anew. 

Him  amorous  Circe,  mad  with  passion,  made 

A  bird  and  decked  his  wings  with  many  hues.  230 

Seated  in  such  a  temple  of  the  gods 
And  palace  of  his  sires,  Latinus  calls 
The  Trojans  in  before  him,  greeting  them. 
As  there  they  enter,  with  a  pleasant  word: 

"  Speak,  men  of  Troy,  for  not  unknown  to  us  ^35 
Your  race  or  city,  nor  unheard  that  ye 
Were  hither  voyaging.    What  is  it  ye  seek  ? 
What  need  hath  borne  you  o'er  the  water  blue 
To  the  Italian  coast  ?    Whether  it  be 
Your  reckoning  lost,  or  beat  about  by  storms,  ^40 
Or  by  whatever  perils  of  the  sea 
Ye  gain  at  last  our  Tiber's  banks  and  ride 


2l6 


THE  ^NEID. 


At  anchor  in  our  port,  refuse  ye  not 
Our  hospitality,  nor  e'er  forget 

From  Saturn  that  the  Latins  spring,  whom  fear  245 

Nor  laws  make  just,  but  who  of  their  free  will 

Follow  the  example  of  that  ancient  god. 

Nay,  I  recall,  though  years  have  dimmed  the  tale, 

The  old  Auruncans  used  to  say,  that  born 

In  these  parts,  Dardanus  hence  made  his  way  250 

To  the  Idsan  towns  of  Phrygia  far 

Through  Thracian  Samos,  now  named  Samothrace. 

From  Carythus,  a  Tuscan  city,  hence 

He  went,  and  now  enthroned  in  golden  halls 

He  sits  in  starry  heaven,  while  here  on  earth  255 

His  altar  swells  the  worship  of  the  gods." 

He  paused.    Thus  answered  back  Ilioneus : 
"O  king,  of  Faunus'  noble  blood,  'twas  not 
The  lowering  storm  that  drove  us,  tossed  at  sea, 
To  land  upon  thy  shores,  nor  have  we  lost  260 
By  star  or  coast  the  reckoning  of  our  way. 
With  willing  minds  and  purposely  this  town 
We  sought,  here  driven  from  realms,  the  greatest  once 
In  all  its  circuit  from  extremest  East 
The  sun  looked  down  upon.  From  Jove  we  spring :  265 
The  Trojan  boy  boasts  Jove  his  ancestor. 
Trojan  ^neas  sent  us  to  thy  gates. 
Lives  not  the  man  on  earth's  remotest  edge, 
With  ocean  rolled  between,  or  isolate 
Where  midmost  of  the  zones  the  tropic  burns  270 
Beneath  a  scorching  sun,  who  hath  not  heard 
How  wild  a  storm  from  fierce  Mycenae  burst 
And  swept  the  Idasan  fields,  or  what  the  fates 


BOOK  VII. 


That  flung  at  one  another's  throats  the  worlds 

Of  Europe  and  of  Asia.    From  that  wreck,  275 

Over  so  many  wastes  of  ocean  borne, 

We  come  to  ask  a  meagre  spot  to  plant 

Our  country's  gods,  a  kindly  shore,  whereon 

The  water  and  the  air  are  free  to  all. 

We  shall  not  be  unworthy  of  thy  realm ; 

Nor  lightly  would  we  value  thy  renown, 

Nor  soon  forget  the  gratituc|e  we  owe 

For  such  a  favor.    Italy  shall  ne'er 

Regret  it  gave  Troy  welcome  to  its  soil. 

Nay,  by  Eneas'  fortunes,  his  stout  hand,  ^85 

Proved  as  he  is  in  honor,  war,  and  arms, 

I  swear  not  few  the  tribes,  not  few  the  lands, 

(Despise  us  not  that  of  our  own  free  will 

We  lade  our  hands  with  wreaths,  our  lips  wit]i  prayers,) 

That  have  with  us  alliance  sought  and  urged.  290 

It  is  the  gods'  decrees  have  driven  us  forth, 

Obedient  to  their  will,  to  seek  thy  shores. 

Here  Dardanus  was  born  :  us  hither  back 

Apollo  calls,  and  by  his  mighty  best 

To  Tuscan  Tiber  and  the  sacred  flow  295 

Of  Fount  Numicus  urges  us.    Nay  more, 

^neas  sends  thee  these  —  but  slender  gifts. 

Relics  of  better  days  —  saved  from  the  flames 

Of  Troy.    Father  Anchises  at  the  shrines 

Oft  poured  libations  from  this  cup  of  gold  :  S'^o 

This  sceptre  Priam  swayed  as  was  his  wont 

When  he  amid  the  assembled  people  voiced 

The  majesty  of  law :  this  sacred  bowl. 

These  robes,  wrought  by  the  dames  of  Troy,  were  his." 


2l8 


THE  iENEID. 


The  while  Ihoneus  was  speaking  thus,  305 
Latinus  steadily  bent  down  his  face 
And  kept  it  fixed  upon  the  ground,  his  eyes 
Uneasily  intent.    Less  heeds  the  king 
The  embroidered  purple  robe  or  Priam's  staff 
Than  weighs  the  match  and  marriage  of  his  child.  310 
At  heart  he  ponders  on  the  oracle 
Of  ancient  Faunus,  thinking  this  perchance 
May  be  that  son-in-law  from  foreign  land 
Portended  by  the  fates,  and  called  to  share 
His  realm  in  common  with  himself:  that  hence  31s 
A  race  of  such  rare  valor  shall  descend. 
Its  prowess  yet  will  master  all  the  world. 
Content  at  last,  he  cries  :    "  Now  let  the  gods 
Our  undertakings  and  their  auguries  crown. 
Whate'er  thou  wishest,  Trojan,  shall  be  thine.  32c 
Nor  do  I  spurn  thy  gifts.    Ye  shall  not  want, 
Long  as  Latinus  reigns,  fertility 
Of  generous  soil  nor  e'en  the  opulence 
Of  Troy.    Let  but  ^neas  come  himself. 
If  he  so  seek  us  and  so  yearn  to  seal  32s 
The  bond  of  friendship  and  be  called  ally. 
Let  him  not  fear  the  faces  of  his  friends ! 
'Twill  be  the  part  of  peace  with  me  to  clasp 
The  chieftain's  hand.    Now  to  your  king  in  turn 
My  bidding  bear.    I  have  a  daughter,  whom  330 
The  oracles  from  my  ancestral  shrine. 
And  sign  on  sign  from  heaven,  forbid  me  give 
To  husband  of  our  race.    They  prophesy 
A  son-in-law  shall  come  from  foreign  shores 
And  here  in  Latium  make  his  home,  whose  blood  335 


BOOK  VII. 


219 


Shall  lift  our  glory  to  the  stars.    I  feel 
That  this  is  he  the  fates  point  out ;  and  him, 
If  aught  of  truth  my  mind  forecast,  I  choose." 

This  said,  the  sage  chose  horses  from  his  steeds  — 
Three  hundred  sleek  steeds  standing  in  his  stalls  —  340 
And  bade  be  led  to  every  Trojan  there 
A  courser  fleet,  trapped  with  embroidered  stuffs 
And  purple  ornaments.    Breastplates  of  gold 
Hung  from  their  necks.   |Bedecked  with  gold  they 
champed 

A  yellow  golden  bit.    Remembering  too  345 
Their  absent  chief  ^neas,  him  he  sent 
A  chariot  and  twain  coursers  yoked  to  it  — 
Whose  nostrils  breathed  forth  fire  j  immortal  blood 
Mixed  in  their  veins  — born  of  that  mongrel  stock 
That  crafty  Circe  cheated  from  her  sire   '  35° 
And  bred  by  stealth  from  out  a  common  mare. 
So  with  Latinus'  words  and  gifts  return 
The  Trojans  on  their  steeds,  and  peace  report. 

Lo  !  at  that  moment  Jove's  malicious  spouse 
Up  from  Inachian  Argos  went  her  way  3S5 
And  as  she  sped  had  all  the  world  in  view. 
High  in  the  air,  e'en  o'er  Pachynus'  point. 
The  extreme  of  Sicily,  she  caught  the  sight 
Of  glad  ^neas  and  the  Trojan  fleet. 
She  saw  his  roofs  already  rise,  his  hopes  360 
But  now  entrusted  to  the  soil,  his  boats 
Deserted.    Rent  with  pangs  of  rage,  she  stopped ; 
Then  shook  her  head  and  burst  forth  thus  :    "  Again 
That  hated  race,  the  Trojans'  destinies 
That  battle  with  the  destinies  of  mine  !  365 


220 


THE  ^NEID. 


Could  they  not  die  upon  Sigea's  plains  ? 

Could  not  captivity  them  captive  keep  ? 

Could  not  the  fires  of  Troy  their  champions  burn, 

That  they  have  found  their  way  through  steel  and  flame? 

Am  I  to  think  my  might  is  spent  at  last,  370 

My  vengeance  sated,  and  I  pacified  ? 

Dared  I  not  chase  them,  their  relentless  foe. 

With  shipwreck  o'er  the  deep,  and  block  their  fleet 

On  every  sea  ?    The  power  of  wind  and  wave 

Hath  been  exhausted  on  these  men  of  Troy. 

What  help  to  me  the  Syrtes  ;  Scylla  e'en  ; 

Or  deep  Charybdis  ?    Safe  past  sea  and  me, 

They  shelter  in  the  long-sought  Tiber's  bed. 

Mars  could  exterminate  the  mighty  race 

Of  Lapithse.    The  Father  of  the  gods  38<» 

Himself  demolished  ancient  Calydon 

To  sate  Diana's  rage.    Yet  what  the  crime 

That  Lapithag  had  done,  or  Calydon, 

That  had  deserved  so  ill  ?    While  I,  proud  wife 

Of  Jove,  who,  foiled,  yet  nothing  left  undared  385 

But  turned  me  still  to  each  expedietfit. 

Am  by  ^neas  beat !    If  my  own  might 

Be  not  enough,  I  shall  not  hesitate 

To  beg  whose'er  I  can.    If  powerless 

To  sway  the  gods  of  heaven,  I  will  move  hell !  39° 

What  though  it  be,  that  from  the  Latin  realm 

I  may  not  bar  him  out ;  what  though  it  be 

Irrevocable  fate,  Lavinia  sure 

Shall  be  his  wife :  yet  may  I  hinder  him. 

Yet  pile  delays  ere  he  achieve  so  much,  3M 

And  yet  may  waste  the  peoples  of  both  kings ! 


\ 


BOOK  VII. 


Such  be  the  cost,  in  their  own  subjects'  lives, 
At  which  the  father  and  the  son-in-law 
Their  bargain  make.    Maiden,  thy  dower  shall  be 
The  blood  of  Trojan  and  Rutulian  both ;  400 
Thy  bridesmaid.  War.    Not  Hecuba  alone, 
Big  with  a  torch,  bore  firebrands  to  her  lord. 
Venus  shall  have  her  own  again,  again 
A  Paris,  and  again  the  deadly  flames 
Enveloping  this  resurrected  Troy ! "  405 
Thus  spake,  and  sought  the  earth,  on  vengeance  bent. 
From  the  grim  Furies'  home  and  shades  of  hell 
She  calls  Alecto,  mischief-hatcher,  up. 
Whose  happiness  is  in  malignant  strife, 
In  feuds  and  plots  and  all  inhuman  crimes.  4" 
E'en  father  Pluto  hates  the  monster,  nay, 
Her  hell-hag  sisters  hate  the  sight  of  her, 
So  many  a  face  she  makes,  so  grim  her  look, 
Black  with  so  many  snakes  she  sprouts  withal ! 
Goads  Juno  her,  as  thus  to  her  she  speaks :  415 
"  O  virgin  child  of  Night,  thy  own  aid  lend, 
Lest  now  my  honor  and  my  fame  fall  hurt, 
■  Lest  too  the  Trojans  find  their  way  alike 
To  trick  Latinus  in  a  marriage  league. 
And  get  the  Italian  borders  in  their  grasp.  420 
E'en  loving  brothers  thou  canst  arm  in  strife, 
Turn  home  to  hate,  and  bring  beneath  its  roof 
Blows  and  the  torch  of  death.    A  thousand  forms, 
A  thousand  arts  of  hurt  thou  hast.  Bestir 
Thy  teeming  gall,  break  up  this  truce  of  peace,  425 
And  sow  the  thorns  of  war.    Let  youthful  blood 
Crave  arms,  demand  and  snatch  them  all  at  once." 


222 


THE  ^NEID. 


Charged  with  the  venom  of  the  Gorgons,  straight 
Alecto  wends  forthwith  to  Latium's  towers, 
To  the  proud  palace  of  Laurentum's  king,  430 
And  silently  Amata's  threshold  sits ; 
Who,  womanlike,  to  fever  burns  with  fear 
And  anger  'twixt  the  Trojans'  coming  there 
And  Turnus'  suit.    At  her  the  hell-hag  flings 
From  out  her  slimy  locks  a  single  snake  43s 
That  penetrates  her  bosom  to  the  heart. 
So  by  this  devil  maddened  she  may  set 
The  whole  house  by  the  ears.    Beneath  her  robe 
And  over  her  fair  breast,  it  slips  and  glides 
With  touch  unfelt,  and  breathes  its  viper's  breath,  440 
While  never  dreams  the  queen  what  crazes  her. 
About  her  neck  a  massive  twisted  chain 
Of  gold  it  seems  ;  as  her  long  fillet-band, 
It  catches  up  her  hair  j  along  her  limbs 
It  slickly  shoots.    And  while  the  infection,  caught  445 
From  its  exuding  venom,  thrills  her  nerves 
And  makes  her  marrow  smart,  nor  reason  yet 
Is  wholly  fevered  in  her  breast,  she  speaks 
Still  gently  and  as  mothers  wont  to  plead. 
Sobbing  to  think  her  child  must  wed  with  Troy  :  450 
"  And  wilt  thou  force  Lavinia  then  to  wed. 
Her  father  thou,  these  Trojan  vagabonds  ? 
Hast  thou  no  pity  for  thyself,  thy  child. 
Or  me,  a  mother  of  her  daughter  reft 
By  this  perfidious  robber  who  will  fly  455 
And  put  to  sea  quick  as  the  wind  blows  north  ? 
In  Sparta  was't  not  thus  the  Phrygian  swain 
Crept  in,  who  spirited  away  to  Troy 


BOOK  VIT. 


223 


Ledaean  Helen  ?    This  thy  solemn  troth,  ■ 
Thine  old  love  for  thine  own,  the  right  hand  pledged  4^° 
So  oft  by  thee  to  Turnus,  kin  of  thine ! 
If  t  be  a  son-in-law  of  foreign  blood 
Thou  seek'st  for  Latium,  and  if  such  be  fate, 
And  thy  sire  Faunus'  bidding  be  the  law, 
Meseems  that  every  land  is  foreign  land  46s 
That  from  our  sceptre  lies  apart  and  free. 
'Tis  so  the  gods  intend.    Nay,  if  we  trace 
The  springs  of  'turnus'  lineage  to  its  roots, 
Then  were  Acrisius,  ay,  and  Inachus 
His  sires  :  his  birth-place  was  the  heart  of  Greece. "  470 
With  prayers  like  these  she  pleads  in  vain ;  and  when 
She  sees  Latinus  standing  firm,  while  deep 
Within  her  breast  the  serpent's  frenzying  sting 
Strikes  in  and  shoots  through  every  vein,  then  mad 
Indeed,  chased  by  distorted  fantasies,  475 
Frantic  beyond  all  bounds,  through  that  great  town 
She  storms.    So  sometimes  'neath  the  twisted  lash 
Flies  round  the  top :  boys,  busy  with  their  sport. 
In  wide  rings  drive  it  in  some  vacant  lot : 
Sped  by  the  thong  it  circles  round  and  round  :  480 
The  thoughtless  crowd,  the  beardless  urchins  stare 
In  wonder  at  the  whirling  wood,  and  put 
Their  very  souls  into  their  blows.    Such,  too. 
The  speed  at  which  throughout  the  city's  midst, 
And  mid  the  fiery  populace,  the  queen  485 
Is  driven.    Nay,  e'en  into  the  woods  she  flies. 
Under  pretence  of  Bacchus'  influence  driven. 
To  do  a  greater  wrong,  and  folly  worse 
Attempt.    There  in  the  coverts  of  the  hills 


224 


THE  ^NEID. 


She  hides  her  child,  that  so  she  may  outwit  49© 
The  Trojans  of  the  match,  the  nuptials  stay. 
"  Hail,  Bacchus ! "  is  her  cry.    ''Thou  dost  alone," 
She  shouts,  "  deserve  the  maid.    Be  it  for  thee 
She  bears  thy  graceful  sceptre,  dances  round 
Thy  path,  and  dallies  with  thy  sacred  locks."  495 
The  panic  spreads.    Their  hearts  to  fury  wrought, 
One  frenzy  drives  the  women  all  at  once 
New  roofs  to  seek.    Now  have  they  fled  their  homes. 
Baring  their  breasts  and  tresses  to  the  winds ; 
While  others  fill  the  air  with  fitful  shrieks,  50° 
And  robed  in  skins  wield  spears  with  vine  leaves 
wreathed. 

Midst  them  the  mad  queen  lifts  her  flaming  torch ; 
Never  at  rest  her  blood-shot  eyes,  she  shouts 
The  marriage  vows  of  Turnus  and  her  child. 
Sudden  and  wild  she  cries  :  "  Where'er  ye  are,  505 
Ye  Latin  women,  hear !    If  any  love 
For  poor  Amata  fires  your  faithful  hearts, 
If  gnaws  the  jealousy  for  mother's  right, 
Let  loose  your  locks  and  revel  ye  with  me  !  " 
Such  was  the  queen,  whom  pricked  with  Bacchus' 
spur,  510 
Alecto  through  the  savage  wilderness 
And  through  the  woods  kept  driving  to  and  fro. 

Soon  as  she  deems  the  frenzy  keen  enough, 
And  all  Latinus'  plans  and  home  distraught. 
The  ill-omened  witch  mounts  on  her  dusky  wings  sis 
And  seeks  the  bold  Rutulian's  city,  built 
By  Danae  and  Grecian  colonists 
By  stormy  south  winds  thither  blown,  'tis  said. 


BOOK  VII. 


225 


Ardea  the  place  was  by  our  fathers  called ; 
To-day  the  grand  name  Ardea  still  remains,  520 
Though  fortune  hath  departed  thence.    'Twas  here, 
Under  his  lofty  roof  and  'neath  the  black 
Of  midnight,  Turnus  lay  at  rest.    Off  flings 
Alecto  her  fierce  look,  her  fury's  shape. 
And  an  old  woman's  face  puts  on ;  she  ploughs  525 
Her  rugged  front  with  wrinkles  :  with  a  band 
She  ties  her  hoar^  hair,  and  round  it  wreathes 
An  olive-branch.    She  turns  to  Calybe, 
Priestess  in  Juno's  temple,  old  and  bent. 
Before  the  chieftain's  eyes,  she  speaks  him  thus :  S3o 
"Turnus,  wilt  thou  endure  all  toils  for  naught? 
Or  let  the  sceptre  that  should  be  thine  own. 
To  Trojan  squatters  by  a  pen-stroke  pass  ? 
The  king  forbids  the  match,  the  dowry  thoti 
His  kinsman  seek'st  denies,  and  would  his  realm  sss 
Transmit  to  heir  of  foreign  blood.  Unthanked 
And  mocked,  up  now  and  perils  dare !    Up,  up  ! 
And  rout  the  Tyrrhene  ranks ;  but  shelter  thou 
The  Latins  in  the  fold  of  peace !    'Twas  thus 
Almighty  Juno  bade  me  boldly  speak,  54© 
Whilst  thou  at  night  wert  resting  peacefully. 
Rise  then  and  proudly  bid  thy  young  men  arm 
And  from  thy  gates  go  forward  to  the  war ; 
Exterminate  the  Trojan  chiefs  who  root 
On  the  fair  river's  bank,  and  burn  their  boats  54S 
From  decoration  down  to  very  keel ! 
It  is  the  mighty  will  of  heaven  that  bids. 
Let  king  Latinus,  if  he  still  refuse 
To  keep  his  word  or  fix  the  marriage,  feel 
IS 


226 


THE  iENEID. 


And  test  at  last  the  might  of  Turnus'  arm."  sso 
The  youth  but  mocked  the  witch,  and  thus  began: 
"  Not,  as  thou  think' St,  the  tale  had  'scaped  my  ears 
That  barks  have  anchored  in  the  Tiber's  bed. 
Conjure  me  not  such  terrors.    Juno  ne'er 
Unmindful  is  of  me.    Old  age,  good  dame,  sss 
Worn  to  decay  and  barren  of  the  truth, 
Hath  vexed  thy  timid  soul  with  senseless  fears, 
And  cheats  thee  mid  the  armaments  of  kings 
With  false  alarms.    Thine  be  the  charge  to  keep 
The  temple  and  the  statues  of  the  gods  :  s6o 
Let  men,  who  bear  the  brunt,  make  w^r  and  peace." 

At  this  Alecto's  anger  flashes  fire. 
E'en  while  he  speaks  a  sudden  tremor  thrills 
His  limbs :  his  eyes  stand  fixed,  so  thick  with  snakes 
The  Fury  hisses,  and  so  terrible  565 
Her  face  appears.    Darting  a  lightning  glance. 
She  drove  him  back,  eager  and  struggling  hard 
To  speak  her  more.    Up  from  her  hair  she  reared 
Twin  serpents,  lashed  her  scourge,  and  spake  from  lips 
Afoam  with  wrath  :    "  Behold  me  now,  whom  age,  szo 
Worn  to  decay  and  barren  of  the  truth. 
Cheats  mid  the  armaments  of  kings  with  false 
Alarms  !    Look  thou  on  these  !    From  the  abode 
Of  the  Dire  Sisters  I  am  hither  come. 
Battle  and  death  I  bear  within  my  hand."  575 

So  spake,  and  hurled  her  torch  against  the  youth. 
And  thrust  its  lurid  smoking  flames  beneath 
His  breast.    A  mighty  fear  breaks  through  his  sleep. 
Sweat  starts  at  every  bone  and  joint,  and  streams 
From  every  pore.    Frenzied  he  raves  for  arms.  ss* 


BOOK  VII. 


Guards  to  his  palace  and  his  bed  he  calls. 

The  thirst  for  fight,  the  fell  insanity 

Of  war,  but  most  his  anger,  crazes  him. 

So  with  loud  roar  a  fire  of  fagots  curls 

Under  the  swaying  kettle's  ribs  :  up  leaps  sss 

The  water  with  the  heat :  hisses  within 

The  liquid  mass,  and  bubbles  out  in  foam 

And  vapor ;  now  it  overflows,  and  forth 

Into  the  air  the  ^team's  dark  cloud  ascends. 

Then  orders  he  his  chiefest  warriors  go  S9o 

To  king  Latinus  who  hath  broke  the  peace. 

And  bids  for  war  prepare,  shield  Italy, 

And  from  its  borders  drive  the  foe,  himself 

Alone  a  match  for  Troy  and  Latium  both. 

So  bade  he,  and  the  gods  invoked.  Then  sprang,  S9S 

As  each  would  be  the  first,  the  Rutuli 

To  arms,  moved  by  his  matchless  grace  of  form, 

His  youth,  or  by  his  royal  pedigree, 

Or  that  his  hand  had  wrought  such  glorious  deeds. 

While  Turnus  with  this  stirring  spirit  fills  ^oo 
The  Rutuli  against  the  Trojans,  fares 
Alecto  on  her  hellish  wings.    She  marks. 
For  mischief  fresh,  the  spot  where  on  the  shore 
The  fair  lulus  hunts  with  snare  and  steed. 
A  sudden  madness  quick  the  infernal  hag 
Breathes  in  the  hounds  ;  with  the  familiar  scent 
Their  nostrils  pricks,  and  fires  them  chase  the  stag. 
'Twas  thus  all  woes  began.    Such  was  the  spark 
That  sent  the  rustics  flaming  into  war. 

A  stag  of  noble  shape  and  branching  horns 
There  was,  that,  stolen  from  off  its  mother's  dugs, 


228 


THE  ^NEID. 


Tyrrheus,  the  keeper  of  the  royal  herds 

And  fields,  and  Tyrrheus'  sons  had  made  a  pet. 

Their  sister  Sylvia  gave  it  all  her  care  ; 

It  answered  to  her  call  j  its  horns  she  decked 

With  wreaths  of  tender  flowers,  sleeked  its  wild  coat, 

And  bathed  it  in  the  purest  streams.    Her  hand 

It  knew,  and  at  its  mistress'  table  fed. 

It  wandered  through  the  woods,  yet  ever  home 

Early  or  late  to  the  wont  threshold  came.  ^^o 

Straying  too  far,  lulus  hunting  there, 

'Twas  startled  by  his  maddened  hounds,  e'en  while 

By  chance  it  swam  adown  the  stream,  and  cooled 

Its  heat  upon  the  verdant  bank.  Inspired 

With  eager  thirst  for  praise,  lulus  shot 

From  his  own  straining  bow  the  shaft,  nor  fate 

Did  fail  the  hand  that  else  had  missed  its  mark. 

With  heavy  thud  through  flank  and  belly  driven 

The  arrow  came.    Then  fled  the  wounded  beast 

For  refuge  to  its  well-known  home,  and  ran  630 

Bellowing  into  its  stall.    Dripping  with  blood, 

It  made  the  whole  roof  echo  with  its  plaint. 

Like  one  who  cries  for  help.    Beating  her  arms 

And  hands,  the  sister  Sylvia  instantly 

Shouts,  Help !  and  calls  the  hardy  rustics  in.  635 

They  come  at  once  —  for  silent  in  the  woods 

The  avenging  Fury  lurks  —  armed  with  burnt  stakes 

Or  heavy  knotted  clubs  :  whate'er  each  finds 

At  hand,  rage  turns  it  to  an  arm  of  war. 

Tyrrheus  who  happened  then,  the  wedges  in,  640 

Be  cleaving  into  fours  an  oak,  calls  up 

His  clan,  and  breathing  fury  grasps  his  axe. 


BOOK  VII. 


Then  the  fierce  demon,  seeing  from  her  post 
A  chance  to  hurt,  squats  on  the  stable's  ridge. 
From  off  the  roof  she  sounds  the  rustic  blast, 
And  through  a  bent  horn  swells  her  hellish  voice 
Till  the  whole  forest  trembles,  and  the  woods 
Loud  echo  back.    Hears  it  Diana's  lake 
Far  off ;  hears  it  the  pale  sulphureous  flow 
Of  river  Nar ;  hears  it  Velinus'  source,  ^5° 
While  frightenec|  mothers  to  their- bosoms  press 
Their  babes.    Whither  that  dreadful  trumpet  calls, 
The  hardy  farmers  at  its  summons  throng 
From  every  side,  their  weapons  in  their  hands. 
Nor  less  the  Trojan  warriors  burst  their  gates  ^ss 
And  rally  to  lulus'  aid.    They  form 
In  battle  lines.    No  rustic  bout  with  staves 
Fire-hardened  and  with  cudgels  tough  is  this. 
With  mortal  steel  they  fight ;  the  deadly  crop 
That  bristles  far  and  wide  is  naked  swords ; 
Their  sunstruck  helmets  gleam  and  toss  the  light 
Back  to  the  clouds.    So,  when  the  wind  begins 
To  blow,  the  ripples  foam  j  but  speedily 
The  sea  uplifts,  higher  and  higher  flings  its  waves. 
Then  leaps  from  deepest  deep  against  the  stars.     ^^s  . 

Then  falls  young  Almon,  Tyrrheus'  eldest  son, 
Struck  by  a  shrill  shaft  at  the  battle  front. 
It  hits  and  wounds  him  in  the  throat,  and  chokes 
With  blood  the  liquid  journey  of  his  voice. 
The  slender  breath  of  life.    Around  him  falls 
Full  many  a  hero.    Old  Galaesus  falls. 
Richest  in  land  and  justest  he  of  all 
The  Italians,  e'en  while  pressing  'twixt  the  lines 


230 


THE  .ENEID. 


To  stay  the  fight.    Five  flocks,  five  herds  he  had 
And  with  a  hundred  ploughshares  turned  the  sod.  ^75 

While  thus  afield  the  uncertain  battle  fares, 
Her  promise  kept,  now  that  the  war  is  red 
With  blood  and  at  the  onset  Death  is  in. 
The  fiend  flies  Italy  and,  scaling  heaven, 
Exultingly  and  loud  speaks  Juno  thus  :  ^^o 
"  Lo,  discord  wrought  for  thee,  and  battle  grim ! 
Now  bid  them  league  as  friends  or  treaty  make, 
Troy  thus  besprinkled  with  Italian  blood ! 
Nay  more  I'll  do,  if  unrelenting  still 
Thou  bid'st.    With  rumors  I  will  prick  to  fight 
Their  neighbor  towns  ;  with  war's  mad  fire  will  I 
Fever  their  souls  to  rally  to  the  aid 
Of  either  side,  and  barb  the  fields  with  arms." 
But  Juno  answered  back  :  "  Enough  of  wile 
And  terror ;  war  hath  taken  root ;  and  fares  ^90 
The  battle  hand  to  hand.    Blood  hath  afresh 
Spattered  the  arms  that  chanced  the  first  to  clash. 
Be  such  the  nuptials,  such  the  marriage  songs 
For  Venus'  paragon  of  sons,  or  king 
Latinus'  self,  to  celebrate  !    For  thee,  695 
The  Father  Ruler  of  Olympus'  top 
Would  have  thee  roam  no  more  in  upper  air. 
Back  to  thy  haunts !    If  fortune  hence  attend 
Our  plot,  I  will  myself  assume  command." 
So  Juno  spake.    On  wings  that  hissed  with  snakes  700 
The  other  rose,  then  fading  from  the  light. 
Back  to  Cocytus'  deep  abyss  went  down. 

Close  at  the  lofty  mountain's  foot,  midway 
Of  Italy,  there  is  a  noted  spot, 


BOOK  VII. 


Well-known  to  fame  from  shore  to  shore  — the  vale  70s 

Amsanctus.    Gloomed  in  thick  foliage,  the  woods 

On  both  sides  shut  it  in,  and  in  its  midst 

A  brawling  stream  in  eddies  whirls,  and  roars 

Along  its  rocks.    A  frightful  cave  is  here  : 

Hence  cruel  Pluto's  blasts :  here  Hell's  huge  maw  710 

Gapes  through  and  opes  its  pestilential  jaws. 

Through  these  the  Fury  —  hideous  monster — sinks 

And  of  her  burden  rids  both  earth  and  heaven. 

Nor  less  queen  Juno  to  the  bitter  end 
Forces  apace  the  war.    Pour  each  and  all  715 
The  peasants  in  from  battle-field  to  town  ; 
Tell  of  the  slain ;  of  the  boy  Almon  speak, 
And  of  Galaesus'  cloven  skull;  invoke 
The  deities,  and  on  Latinus  call. 
Turnus  is  there,  and  to  their  charge  of  fire  720 
And  murder  adds  the  terror  of  his  own  :  — 
To  wit,  the  Trojans  in  the  realm  have  share; 
The  Trojan  and  the  Latin  race  do  mix; 
And  he  is  banished  from  the  palace  gate. 
They  too,  whose  mothers  mad  with  Bacchus  leap  72s 
And  through  the  dark  woods  dance,  Amata's  name 
Still  potent,  gather  in  on  every  hand 
And  shout  for  war.    In  spite  of  Heaven's  decrees, 
Spite  of  the  omens,  all  as  one  demand 
War  to  the  death.    At  king  Latinus'  gates,  730 
The  eager  Latins  throng.    He,  like  a  rock 
That  ocean  cannot  move,  resists  them  still 
Like  some  sea-cliff,  beat  by  the  mighty  storm, 
The  ceaseless  billows  lashing  it,  that  stands 
In  its  own  weight  secure ;  in  vain  its  reefs  73s 


232 


THE  .ENEID. 


And  breakers  froth  with  foam,  and  from  its  edge 

The  bruised  sea-weed  is  tossed.    But  when  no  power 

Is  his  to  stay  their  mad  designs,  and  all 

Goes  wild  at  Juno's  nod,  upon  the  gods 

And  on  the  void  of  heaven  the  patriarch  calls,  740 

And  cries  :  "  Alas !  fate  crushes  us ;  we  bend 

Before  the  storm  ;  and  ye,  poor  wretches,  yet 

Shall  pay  the  price  of  sacrilege  in  blood. 

Turnus,  thou  pest,  the  penalty  of  woe 

Shall  wait  thee  hence  :  too  late  will  be  the  prayers  74S 

In  which  thou  then  shalt  kneel  unto  the  gods : 

Thou  robb'st  me  of  a  happy  death,  just  when 

My  rest  is  won,  and  I,  all  dangers  past. 

Am  making  port."    He  ceased  :  then  shut  him  in 

His  palace,  and  laid  down  the  reins  of  state.  75° 

In  Latin  Italy  a  custom  was. 
Which  e'er  the  Alban  cities  sacred  held 
When  entering  upon  war  :  imperial  Rome 
Preserves  it  still,  whether  the  purpose  be 
With  Getae,  Hyrcans,  or  Arabian  hordes  75S 
To  wage  heart-rending  battle,  or  to  march 
To  Ind,  the  sun  pursue,  and  back  demand 
The  standards  from  the  Parthians'  hands.  Two  gates 
Hath  War  —  so  runs  the  legend  —  sanctified 
Both  by  religion  and  the  awe  grim  Mars  760 
Inspires.    Bolt  them  a  hundred  brazen  bars 
And  everlasting  ribs  of  iron  :  nor  e'er 
Their  keeper  Janus  from  the  threshold  goes. 
Whene'er  the  Senators  resolve  on  war. 
In  augural  robe  and  Sabine  girdle  garbed  t^s 
The  consul  doth  himself  these  grating  gates 


BOOK  VII. 


Unbar;  himself  to  battle  calls;  while  all 
The  other  fighting-men  respond,  and  loud 
Their  hoarse  assent  the  brazen  trumpets  sound. 
E'en  thus  was  then  Latinus  bid  declare  770 
War  'gainst  the  Trojans,  and  those  awful  doors 
Throw  back.    The  patriarch  from  the  touch  recoiled, 
Fled  turning  from  the  loathsome  task,  and  hid 
'   Within  the  dark  recesses  of  his  courts. 

Then  Juno,  queey  of  gods,  from  heaven  flew  down,  775 
With  her  own  hand  the  tardy  portals  struck, 
And  burst  on  swinging  hinge  War's  iron  gates. 

The  heart  of  Italy,  till  then  unmoved 
And  slumbering,  burns.    Afoot  they  haste  to  camp, 
Or  mounted  gallop  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  780 
All  hot  for  arms.    They  rub  their  polished  shields, 
Their  shining  spears  with  lumps  of  fat,  and  grind 
Their  axes  on  the  stone.    They  glow  to  lift 
The  standard  and  to  hear  the  trumpet's  sound. 
Nay,  five  great  cities  on  their  anvils  forge  78s 
Their  swords  afresh,  —  Atina  in  her  might, 
Proud  Tibur,  Ardea,  Crustumerium  and 
Antemnae  with  its  towers.    The  hollow  helm 
To  guard  the  head  they  shape,  and  frame-work  weave 
Of  willows  for  their  shields.    Corslets  of  brass,  790 
Thin  greaves  of  silver-leaf  they  hammer  out. 
No  honor  hence  to  sickle  or  to  plough. 
Nor  thought  of  furrow  more  ;  but  at  the  forge 
They  temper  fresh  the  ancestral  blade.    The  horn 
Hath  sounded  now ;  the  die  of  war  is  cast.  79s 
Here,  who  his  helmet  snatches  as  he  runs 
From  out  his  door :  there,  who  the  impatient  steed 


234 


THE  ^NEID. 


Yokes  to  the  chariot-pole,  dons  shield  and  mail 
Of  triple  gold,  and  girds  his  faithful  sword. 

Ye  Muses,  open  Helicon,  and  now 
Inspire  my  song.    What  kings  were  roused  to  war  I 
Who  led  the  ranks  that  filled  the  battle-fields ! 
Whose  were  the  arms  that  shone  ;  what  warriors  were 
E'en  then  the  flower  of  good  Italia's  soil. ! 
For,  Muses,  ye  remember  and  can  tell : 
To  us  scarce  filters  down  fame's  fainting  breath. 

First  in  the  fields  despiser  of  the  gods, 
The  bold  Mezentius  from  Etruria's  shores 
His  army  leads.    Lausus  is  at  his  side. 
His  son  —  none  other  handsomer  than  he, 
Save  Turnus  of  Laurentum  —  Lausus  who 
Horse-tamer  was,  and  conqueror  in  the  chase. 
In  vain  —  worthy  to  heir  a  happier  realm, 
A  better  father  than  Mezentius  was  — 
A  thousand  men  he  from  Argylla  brings.  ^^s 

Next  them,  the  brawny  Aventinus,  son 
Of  brawny  Hercules,  parades  afield 
His  chariot  decked  with  palms  of  triumph  won. 
And  his  victorious  steeds :  upon  his  shield 
His  sire's  device  he  wears  —  a  hundred  snakes,  ^^o 
A  hydra  with  a  hundred  serpent-heads. 
Within  the  woods  upon  Mount  Aventine, 
A  woman  in  the  embraces  of  a  god, 
The  priestess  Rhea  did  stealthily  give  birth 
To  him,  what  time  the  victor  Hercules  8*5 
From  slaying  Geryon  came  to  Italy 
And  washed  his  Spanish  herd  in  Tiber's  flood. 
His  soldiers  in  their  hands  to  battle  bear 


BOOK  VII. 


235 


Javelins  and  deadly  pikes,  and  fight  with  swords 

Polished  and  sharp,  and  with  the  Sabine  darts. 

Around  him  flung  a  mighty  lion's  skin, 

That  with  its  bristling  shag  and  glittering  teeth 

Surmounts  his  head,  he  strides  afoot.    'Twas  thus 

This  savage  entered  at  the  palace  door, 

His  shoulders  cased  in  that  Herculean  garb.  ^35 

Catillus  and  bold  Coras,  Grecian  stock. 
Twin  brothers,  niext  leave  Tibur's  walls  —  a  town 
After  Tiburtus  called,  their  brother's  name. 
Upon  the  battle's  edge,  where  thickest  is 
The  fight,  they  stalk.    So  from  high  mountain-top 
Move  down  the  cloud-born  Centaurs  twain,  and  leave 
Behind  them  Omole  and  Othrys'  snows, 
Swift  striding  on :  huge  forests  yield  to  give 
Them  room  :  loud  crash  the  branches  'neath  their  feet. 

Nor  wanting  there  king  Caeculus,  who  laid  ^4s 
Pr^neste's  walls,  and  whom  all  legends  say 
Was  got  by  Vulcan  mid  the  fields  and  flocks, 
And  in  a  fire-place  found.    A  rustic  horde 
March  in  loose  order  in  his  train  —  whoe'er 
Dwell  on  Preneste's  height,  or  on  the  fields  850 
Of  Gabii  where  Juno's  temple  is. 
Or  on  the  bank  of  icy  Anien's  flood, 
Or  on  the  Hernician  fastnesses  that  flash 
With  waterfalls — whome'er,  Anagnia  rich, 
Thy  wealth,  or,  father  Amasenus,  thou,  ^55 
Dost  feed.'   Not  arms  enough  for  all,  nor  clang 
Of  shields  or  car :  the  greater  part  sling  balls 
Of  livid  lead :  some  brandish  javelins  high, 
With  two  in  either  hand  :  upon  the  head 


236 


THE  .ENEID. 


A  tawny  wolf-skin  cap  :  with  left  foot  bare  ^ 
They  step,  an  untanned  boot  upon  the  right. 

Messapus  next,  tamer  of  steeds,  and  son 
Of  Neptune,  fated  nor  by  fire  nor  sword 
To  die,  unsheaths  his  blade,  and  sudden  calls 
To  arms  his  people  who  have  slumbered  long, 
His  forces  long  unused  to  war.    With  him, 
Fescennia's  line  and  the  Falisci  true. 
And  they  who  dwell  along  Soracte's  heights, 
Or  the  Flavinian  fields,  or  lake  and  hill 
Of  Ciminus,  or  in  Capena's  groves. 
Singing  the  praises  of  their  king,  they  march 
In  even  ranks :  as  when  the  snow-white  swans 
Fly  back  from  pasturing  through  the  melting  clouds 
And  stretch  their  necks  to  sing  their  measure  shrill, 
While  river  and  far-echoing  Asian  marsh  ^75 
Resound.    One  would  have  thought  them,  not  indeed 
So  many  mingling  squadrons  armed  for  fight, 
But  some  aerial  cloud  of  screaming  birds 
That  from  the  sea  were  flocking  to  the  shore. 

Lo !  of  old  Sabine  blood  his  mighty  host, 
A  mighty  host  himself,  doth  Clausus  lead. 
From  whom  are  now  diffused  through  Italy 
The  Claudian  tribe  and  family,  e'er  since 
The  Sabines  have  in  Rome  had  part.    With  him 
Come  Amiternum's  crowded  ranks  ;  the  old 
Quirites  ;  all  Eretum's  soldiery ; 
All  from  Mutusca's  olive-bearing  soil ; 
All  they  whose  home  is  in  Momentum  town  ; 
Who  on  Velinus'  dewy  fields  abide. 
Or  Tetrica's  rough  rocks,  Severus'  top, 


BOOK  VII. 


237 


Casperia,  Foruli,  Himella's  banks ; 
Or  drink  from  Tiber's  stream,  or  Fabaris ; 
Or  whom  the  icy  Nursia  sends,  besides 
Hortanum's  quotas,  and  the  Latin  tribes. 
And  all  whome'er  the  Allia  —  woful  name  —  895 
Asunder  parts  and  flows  between.    Not  more 
The  waves  that  roll  on  Libya's  sea,  when  fierce 
Orion  plunges  in  its  wintry  tide  ; 
Nor  thicker  scor^ch  in  June  the  ears  of  corn 
On  Hermus'  meads  or  Lycia's  golden  fields.  900 
Shields  clang;  earth  startled  trembles  'neath  their 
tread. 

Halesus  next,  of  Agamemnon's  race, 
Hating  the  name  of  Troy,  yokes  to  the  car 
His  steeds,  and  hastes  a  thousand  fighting-men 
To  Turnus'  aid.    His  followers  they,  who  vex  905 
The  Massic  glebe  so  fruitful  of  the  vine,  — 
They  whom  the  Auruncan  sires  from  their  high  hills, 
Or,  from  their  coasts  hard  by,  the  Sidicines 
Have  sent,  — they  who  have  Gales  left  behind  — 
Who  dwell  beside  Vulturnus'  reedy  stream,  —  910 
The  rough  Saticulan  as  well,  and  troops 
Of  Osci.    Pointed  darts  their  weapons  are. 
Fitted,  as  is  their  custom,  to  the  wrist 
With  a  light  cord.    A  small  round  shield  defends 
Their  left:  their  swords  are  curved  for  combat 
close.  91S 

Nor  shalt  thou,  QEbalus,  go  forth  unsung, 
Whom,  so  they  say,  the  nymph  Sebethis  bore 
To  Telon,  when,  an  old  man  then,  he  reigned 
In  Caprea,  the  Teleboan's  realm. 


238 


THE  .ENEID. 


But  not  contented  with  his  father's  lands,  9ao 

The  son  had  now,  to  do  him  homage,  brought 

The  Sarrasts  and  the  plains  by  Sarnus  washed, 

And  who  in  Batulum  and  Rufrae  dwell, 

Or  on  Celenna's  fields,  or  where  look  down 

Abella's  apple-bearing  heights — trained  they  92s 

In  Teuton  fashion  all  to  hurl  the  dart  j 

Their  helms  the  stripping  of  the  cork-tree  bark ; 

Their  brazen  swords  and  bucklers  glittering  all. 

Thee,  Ufens,  famed  in  story  and  for  arms, 
By  fortune  blessed,  have  Nursae's  mountain-peaks  930 
To  battle  sent, —  thy  clan  the  Equicoli, 
Rare  rough,  wont  in  the  forest  much  to  hunt, 
And  living  on  a  rugged  soil.    They  till 
The  earth  with  arms  at  hand,  and  e'er  delight 
To  mass  fresh  spoils  and  live  a  plundering  Hfe.  93s 
Nay,  e'en  Maruvium's  priest,  brave  Umbro,  comes 
At  king  Archippus'  bidding,  with  his  helm 
Wreathed  with  auspicious  olive-leaves.    'Twas  he 
Who  could,  with  touch  or  magic-spell,  on  snake 
Or  poison-breathing  hydra  slumber  cast,  940 
And  still  its  rage :  its  bite  he  had  the  art 
To  heal :  but  stab  of  Trojan  spear  he  had 
No  power  to  cure.    No  slumber-song,  nor  herb 
Plucked  on  the  Marsi's  hills,  'gainst  such  a  wound 
Availed  him  aught.  Angitia's  groves  have  mourned  94s 
Thy  death ;  the  crystal  waves  of  Fucinus, 
Its  placid  lake,  over  thy  fall  have  wept. 

And  also  to  the  battle  Virbius  came. 
Son  of  Hippolytus — his  fairest  son  — 
There  by  his  native  town  Aricia  sent. 


BOOK  VII. 


239 


Brilliant  he  was,  trained  in  Egeria's  groves 
And  by  the  borders  of  the  lake,  where  stood 
Diana  s  opulent  and  kindly  fane. 
As  goes  the  tale,  after  Hippolytus, 
Through  his  step-mother's  wiles,  was  dragged  and 
killed  955 
By  frightened  steeds,  and  expiated  thus 
In  his  own  blood  his  father's  wrongs,  —  recalled 
To  life  by  Paean ^herbs  and  Dian's  care  — 
He  to  the  starry  skies  came  back  again 
And  to  this  upper  breath  of  heaven.  Then  'twas  960 
The  almighty  Father,  angry  that  to  life 
Should  mortal  from  the  shades  of  death  return. 
With  his  own  hand  the  thunderbolt  did  fling 
At  Esculapius,  author  of  the  art 
Of  medicine,  and  to  the  shades  of  hell     '  965 
Did  hurl  him  down.    But  good  Diana  hid 
Hippolytus  in  some  sequestered  nook  j 
Then  took  him  to  the  nymph  Egeria's  grove 
And  gave  him  her,  there  in  Italian  woods 
Companionless  to  spend  his  days,  unknown  970 
To  fame,  his  very  name  to  Virbius  changed. 
Hence  'tis,  no  horse  may  e'er  Diana's  fane 
Or  sacred  groves  approach,  because  his  steeds, 
By  the  sea-monsters  terrified,  o'erturned 
The  chariot  and  this  youth.    Yet  none  the  less  975 
The  son  his  fiery  coursers  o'er  the  plain 
Doth  urge,  and  in  his  car  to  battle  speed. 

Himself  the  noblest  figure  mid  his  chiefs, 
Head  taller  than  the  rest,  strides  Turnus,  spear 
In  hand.  His  high  helm  streams  with  triple  crest,  980 


240 


THE  ^NEID. 


Upon  its  front  Chimaera  vomiting 

The  fires  of  ^Etna  from  her  jaws,  and  e'er 

More  wild  her  rage,  and  mad  her  awful  flames, 

As  fiercer  grow  the  fight  and  flow  of  blood. 

lo,  her  horns  thrown  up,  is  carved  in  gold  98s 

Upon  the  shield  he  wears  a-left  —  the  girl 

Already  now  a  heifer  with  her  coat 

Of  hair.    A  rare  device  it  is,  for  here 

Is  also  Argus,  keeper  of  the  maid. 

While  from  an  urn,  embossed  upon  the  shield,  990 

Her  father  Inachus  his  flood  pours  out. 

A  cloud  of  footmen  follow ;  everywhere 

Gather  the  hosts  that  seem  a  mass  of  shields ; 

The  Argive  youth ;  the  Auruncan  phalanxes  j 

The  Rutuli ;  Sicanian  veterans  ;  995 

Labici  with  their  bright  embellished  shields  j 

Sacranian  troops :  who,  Tiber,  plough  thy  heights, 

Or  the  hallowed  borders  of  Numicus ;  they 

Who  with  the  ploughshare  turn  Rutulian  slopes 

And  Circe's  mount ;  they  o'er  whose  fields  preside 

The  Anxur  Jove,  and,  glad  in  her  green  groves, 

Feronia;  they  from  where  the  dismal  lake 

Of  Satura  spreads  out,  or  Ufens  cold 

Flows  through  the  valleys  and  is  lost  at  sea. 

The  Volsci's  warrior-queen  Camilla  next  *°°s 
Comes  leading  after  these  her  troop  of  horse. 
Her  ranks  in  brazen  armor  glittering  far. 
Not  wont  to  distaff  or  Minerva's  toils, 
The  maid  is  trained  to  bear  the  brunt  of  war, 
And  on  her  feet  outstrip  the  very  wind, 
Whether  along  the  topmost  blades  of  grass, 


BOOK  VIL  * 


24] 


Scarce  touched,  she  flies  nor  breaks  beneath  her  step 
The  tender  shoots,  or  o'er  mid-ocean  skims, 
Poised  on  the  billow's  edge,  nor  with  its  dew 
Flecks  her  swift  feet.    To  gaze  upon  her,  youth  '°*s 
From  farm  and  city  pour,  while  women  crowd 
To  look,  and  as  they  see  her  move,  they  gape 
Amazed,  —  so  royally  her  purple  robe 
Across  her  shining  shoulder  sweeps,  her  hair 
Caught  up  with  golden  clasps,  —  so  gracefully 
She  wears  her  Lytian  quiver  and  her  spear, 
A  shepherd's  shaft  of  myrtle  tipped  with  steel. 


« 


EIGHTH  BOOK. 

OCARCE  Turnus  from  Laurentum's  citadel 

Had  thrown  the  battle  sign,  and  loud  had  rung 
The  trumpet's  call  to  rouse  the  fiery  steed, 
And  wake  to  arms,  ere  every  heart  was  fired. 
All  Latium  panted  with  alarm,  and  stirred  ' 
The  fever  in  the  blood  of  youth.    The  chiefs, 
Messapus,  Ufens,  and  Mezentius,  that 
Despiser  of  the  gods,  from  every  hand 
Their  quotas  draft,  and  of  its  tillers  rob 
The  soil  afar  and  near.    Goes  Venulus,  '° 
Sent  to  the  city  of  great  Diomed,  . 
To  ask  for  help  and  bear  to  him  the  tale 
That  Trojans  camp  in  Latium ;  that  there  too 
^neas  with  a  fleet  hath  come  and  brought 
His  beaten  gods,  claiming  that  fate  doth  mark  *5 
Him  for  a  king  ;  and  that  full  many  a  tribe 
Hath  made  alliance  with  this  man  from  Troy, 
Till  far  and  wide  through  Latium  now  his  name 
Is  growing  great.    Clearer  to  Diomed 
Than  Turnus  king,  or  king  Latinus,  might 
Appear  what  meant  ^neas  by  these  steps  — 
What  war-wage,  went  all  well,  he  sought  to  win. 

Through  Latium  thus.    The  Trojan  hero  saw 
It  all.    Tossed  on  a  mighty  tide  of  cares, 
Now  here,  now  there  he  turns  his  rapid  thought ;  ^5 
Takes  up  each  thread,  yet  comprehends  the  whole : 


BOOK  VIII. 


243 


As  when  the  sunshine  or  the  moonlight  clear, 
Dancing  on  water  in  a  brazen  vat, 
Glints  everywhere,  now  sparkles  up  in  air. 
Now  strikes  the  fret-work  of  the  very  roof.  30 
'Twas  night.    All  breathing  things  the  wide  w^orld 
o'er, 

Tired  birds  and  flocks,  lay  buried  in  deep  sleep. 

Father  yEneas  on  the  river  bank 

Lay  'neath  the  heaven's  chill  canopy,  heart-sick 

At  thought  of  cruel  war,  and  stretched  his  limbs  3S 

In  slumber  late.    To  him  a  vision  came  : 

The  Genius  of  the  spot,  old  Tiber,  rose 

From  the  calm  stream  amid  the  poplar  leaves, 

Veiled  in  a  sea-green  mantle's  gauzy  folds, 

A  crown  of  reeds  enshadowing  his  hair,  40 

And  spake  these  words  that  put  all  fear  to  flight : 

"  O  born  of  stock  divine,  who  from  the  foe 

Dost  Troy  restore  to  us,  and  for  all  time 

Preservest  Ilium,  —  thou,  expected  long 

On  the  Laurentian  soil  and  Latin  fields,  — 

Thy  destined  home,  thy  fixed  abode  is  here  ! 

Stay  not  thy  hand,  nor  quake  at  threat  of  war. 

The  wrath-blast  of  the  gods  hath  all  gone  down. 

E'en  now  —  nor  think  it  but  a  dream — beneath 

The  holm-trees  by  the  river,  thou  shalt  find  5<> 

At  rest  upon  the  ground  a  huge  white  sow. 

Reclining  with  a  litter  newly  born 

Of  thirty  white  pigs  at  her  teats.    That  spot 

Shall  be  thy  city's  site,  the  sure  surcease 

Of  all  thy  toils.    And  after  that,  when  thrice  ss 

Ten  years  shall  come  and  go,  Ascanius  then 


244 


THE  ^NEID. 


Shall  Alba  found  —  illustrious  e'er  that  name  ! 
I  sing  no  doubtful  strain.    Hark,  while  in  brief 
I  tell  thee  how  successfully  to  do 
The  work  that  presses.    The  Arcades,  a  race  ^ 
From  Pallas  sprung,  who  hither  with  their  king 
Evander  came,  and  'neath  his  banner  marched, 
Have  picked  a  site,  and  in  the  mountains  built 
The  city  Pallanteum,  naming  it 

For  Pallas,  a  progenitor  of  theirs.  *  *s 

They  with  the  Latins  ever  are  at  war. 

Ally  them  to  thy  camp,  and  league  with  them. 

Nay,  I  will  thither  guide  thee  by  my  banks 

And  current  sure,  till  gliding  up  the  stream. 

Thy  oars  shall  bear  thee  there.  Thou  goddess'  son,  7° 

Up  !  up  !  and  when  the  stars  begin  to  pale. 

To  Juno  offer  thou  a  fitting  prayer ; 

With  suppliant  vows  o'ercome  her  hate  and  threats. 

Me  pay  no  honors  till  the  field  is  won. 

I  am  that  azure  Tiber  whom  thou  see'st  7S 

Now  sweeping  full  and  free  along  these  banks  — 

Heaven  on  no  stream  more  gratefully  looks  down  — 

Parting  the  teeming  fields,  where  my  proud  home, 

Mistress  of  haughty  states,  shall  one  day  rise." 

He  spake,  then  melted  in  the  watery  deep,  ^ 
And  to  the  bottom  sank.    Slumber  and  night 
Forsake  ^neas.    Up  he  springs ;  his  face 
Turned  where  the  dawn  begins  to  flush  the  sky. 
He  reverently  in  his  hollow  hands 
Cups  water  from  the  stream,  and  cries  to  heaven : 
"Ye  nymphs,   Laurentian   nymphs,  whence  rivers 
spring  1 


*  / 


The  Tiber, 
From  the  Louvre. 


BOOK  VIII. 


245 


Thou,  father  Tiber,  with  thy  sacred  flood, 
Help,  and  from  harm  ^Eneas  save  at  last ! 
Whate'er  the  fount  from  whence  thou  stream'st; 
whate'er 

The  land  through  which  so  beauteously  thou  flow'st,  9° 
Because  thou  pitiest  our  woes,  thou  shalt 
Be  ever  honored  by  my  gifts  and  praise  ! 
Crowned  monarch  of  Italjlan  waters  thou. 
Be  near,  and  quick  confirm  thy  prophecies ! " 

So  prays,  then  picks  two  biremes  from  the  fleet,  95 
Fits  them  with  oars,  and  arms  his  men,  when  lo ! 
Before  their  eyes  a  sudden  wondrous  sign ! 
They  see  a  white  sow,  with  her  litter  white. 
Stretched  where  the  forest  meets  the  grassy  shore. 
Pious  ^neas  sacrifices  her 
To  thee,  thou  mightiest  Juno,  yea  to  thee ; 
The  sacred  wares  he  brings,  and  bears  the  sow 
And  all  her  litter  to  the  altar-front. 

All  that  long  night  the  Tiber  had  becalmed 
Its  swelling  tide  and,  ebbing  silently, 
So  stayed  its  flow  that,  like  some  gentle  pool 
Or  peaceful  lake,  the  ripples  on  its  face 
Are  smoothed  till  with  no  effort  glides  the  oar. 
Quick  then,  the  journey  once  begun,  they  speed 
With  merry  shouts,  as  o'er  a  sea  of  oil  "o 
The  boats  glide  on.    In  wonder  at  the  sight. 
The  very  current  and  the  unused  woods 
Gaze  as  the  warriors'  bucklers  gleam  afar. 
And  up  the  stream  float  by  the  emblazoned  craft. 
All  night  and  day  they  lean  upon  the  oar;  "5 
Bend  after  bend  they  pass ;  shoot  'neath  the  boughs 


246 


THE  iENEID. 


Of  myriad  trees ;  and  on  the  glassy  deep 
The  greenwood's  shadowed  foliage  they  cut. 

The  blazing  sun  mid-heaven  had  scaled,  when  they 
Afar  saw  walls  and  towers  and  scattered  homes,  "® 
Which  now  the  might  of  Rome  high  as  the  stars 
Hath  reared,  then  but  Evander's  petty  realm. 
Quick  to  the  shore  they  turn  and  near  the  town. 

By  chance  the  Arcadian  king  grave  honors  paid 
That  day  within  a  grove  outside  the  walls  "S 
To  mighty  Hercules  and  to  the  gods. 
With  him  Pallas  his  son,  and  all  the  chiefs 
Among  his  warriors,  and  his  senate  small 
Were  offering  gifts.    Still  on  the  altar  steamed 
The  uncooled  blood.  But  when  the  towering  boats  ^30 
They  saw  glide  onward  through  the  shady  woods, 
The  men  at  rest  upon  their  silent  oars, 
The  sudden  sight  alarmed  them,  and  all  sprang 
From  the  deserted  board.    But  Pallas  bold 
Forbade  them  interrupt  the  solemn  feast,  »35 
Caught  up  his  spear  and  flew  to  meet  the  risk 
Alone.    From  off  a  fronting  knoll  he  cried  : 
"  Warriors,  what  cause  is  it  compels  you  dare 
A  way  ye  know  not  ?    Whither  do  ye  go  ? 
What  is  your  race  ?    From  whence  your  home  ?  And 
bring  ^40 
Ye  hither  peace  or  war  ?  "    Thus  then  replied 
Father  ^neas  from  the  lofty  stern. 
Extending  with  his  hand  the  olive-branch 
Of  peace :   "  Thou  see'st  the  sons  of  Troy,  and  arms 
That  fight  the  Latins,  — exiles  whom  they  drive 
In  haughtiness  of  war  away.    We  seek 


BOOK  Vlli. 


247 


Evander.    Bear  him  this,  and  tell  him  Troy's 
Picked  chiefs  have  come  to  ask  a  league  of  arms." 

At  name  so  glorious  Pallas  stood  amazed. 
*'  Come  forth,  whoe'er  thou  art ;  unto  my  sire  ^so 
Speak  face  to  face  and  to  our  homes  be  guest." 
With  this  he  to  ^neas  gave  his  hand, 
Grasped  his,  and  clung  to  it.    Into  the  grove 
They  go,  and  leave  the  river  bank.    Then  doth 
^neas  speak  the^king  with  kindly  words  :  ^ss 
"  Best  of  the  sons  of  Greece,  fate  bids  me  beg 
Thy  grace,  and  offer  thee  this  olive-branch 
White-wreathed  with  wool.    I  counted  it,  indeed, 
No  risk,  that  thou  wert  of  Arcadian  birth, 
A  leader  of  the  Greeks,  or  yet  akin  '^o 
Unto  the  two  Atridae's  native  stock. 
For  mine  own  worth,  the  god's  dread  oracles, 
The  kinship  of  our  sires,  thy  world-wide  fame, 
Have  us  allied  and  hither  brought  me,  glad 
'Twas  fated  so.    Came  Dardanus  to  Troy,  ^^s 
Its  sire  and  founder,  born,  so  say  the  Greeks, 
Out  of  Electra,  Atlas'  daughter.  Her 
Great  Atlas  got,  who  on  his  shoulder  lifts 
The  arch  of  heaven.    Thy  sire  is  Mercury, 
Whom  Maia  on  Cyllene's  icy  top  »7o 
Gave  birth.    But  Atlas  too  was  Maia's  sire, 
If  true  the  tales  we  hear,  —  Atlas  who  lifts 
The  starry  skies.    So  from  one  blood  alike 
Thy  stock  and  mine  both  spring.    In  this  my  trust, 
With  embassies  or  diplomatic  test  '75 
I  have  not  sounded  thee,  but  come  myself 
A  suppliant  to  thy  doors,  taking  my  life 


24S 


THE  ^NEID. 


In  my  own  hands.    The  same  Rutulian  clan 
That  wage  fierce  war  with  thee,  pursue  me  too. 
If  me  they  once  expel,  they  deem  naught  else 
Than  that  all  Italy  shall  bend  its  neck 
Beneath  their  yoke,  lords  of  the  soil  from  where 
The  sea  above  to  where  the  sea  below 
Doth  wash.    Accept  and  give  the  plighted  word ! 
Brave  hearts  are  ours  that  fear  not  war,  souls  nerved  '^s 
For  any  fate,  and  warriors  tried  and  proved." 

E'en  while  ^neas  spake,  long  ere  he  ceased, 
Evander  scanned  him  top  to  toe,  his  face, 
His  eyes,  and  briefly  answered  back :   "  How  glad, 
Bravest  of  Trojans,  do  I  recognize  ^90 
And  welcome  thee !    How  I  recall  the  speech. 
The  voice,  the  countenance  of  thy  great  sire, 
Anchises !    For  I  mind  me,  Priam  once, 
Son  of  Laomedon,  upon  his  way 
To  Salamis  to  see  Hesione  ^95 
His  sister's  realms,  pushed  farther  on  and  came 
To  Aicadia's  icy  bounds.    'Twas  when  youth's  down 
Just  budded  on  my  cheeks,  and  wonderingly 
I  gazed  upon  the  Trojan  chiefs,  gazed  most 
On  Priam's  self.    Yet  taller  than  them  all,  200 
Anchises  strode.    With  a  boy's  zest  my  heart 
Did  burn  to  speak  the  hero  and  to  clasp 
His  right  hand  with  my  own.    I  crossed  his  path 
And  led  him  eagerly  to  Pheneus'  walls. 
He  when  he  went  away  made  me  accept 
A  quiver  bright  of  Lycian  arrows  full, 
A  mantle  interwrought  with  golden  threads. 
And  two  gold  curbs  that  now  my  Pallas  has. 


BOOK  VIII. 


249 


So  then  I  league  with  thine  the  hand  thou  seek'st, 

And  early  as  to-morrow's  dawn  shall  come  ^lo 

To  earth  again,  I'll  let  thee  happy  go 

With  soldiers  reinforced,  and  with  supplies 

Will  aid  thee.    Meantime,  since  ye  here  as  friends 

Have  come,  unite  with  us  and  celebrate 

This  annual  sacred  feast  'twere  sacrilege  215 

To  slight,  and  sh^re  at  once  in  comrades'  fare." 

This  said,  he  bids  re-spread  the  board  and  bring 
Again  the  cups  they  took  away,  and  seats 
His  guests  around  him  on  the  grassy  turf, 
^neas  he  distinguishes  with  couch  "o 
And  shaggy  lion-skin,  inviting  him 
Upon  the  rustic  throne  to  sit  him  down. 
The  priest  and  the  chief  warriors  vie  to  bring 
Great  roasts  of  beef  and  baskets  full  of  bread. 
And  serve  them  bowls  of  wine.   On  a  whole  chine  225 
And  consecrated  entrails  of  an  ox, 
^neas  and  his  Trojan  comrades  feast. 
Their  hunger  fled  and  appetites  supplied, 
Thus  King  Evander  speaks  :  "  These  solemn  rites, 
This  formal  feast,  this  altar  to  a  god  230 
So  great,  no  superstition  vain  or  false 
Unto  our  ancient  faith  hath  laid  on  us. 
Preserved  from  awful  perils,  Trojan  guest. 
We  pay  and  we  renew  the  thanks  we  owe. 
Nay,  see  this  boulder  hanging  from  the  cliff !  235 
See  how  the  rocks  are  scattered  far  and  wide, 
How  mountain  fastnesses  stand  desolate, 
And  tumbling  cliffs  drag  mighty  ruin  down ! 
A  cave  was  here,  sunk  to  enormous  depth 


250 


THE  iENEID. 


Beyond  the  sunlight's  reach,  inhabited  *4o 
By  the  grim-visaged  Cacus  —  man  and  beast. 
E'er  steamed  the  ground  with  fresh-spilled  blood  ;  and 
nailed 

Over  his  savage  door  hung  human  heads, 

Pallid  to  ghastliness.    The  monster's  sire 

Was  Vulcan,  whose  dark  lurid  flames  he  belched,  245 

As  his  huge  bulk  stalked  on.    Time  brought  at  last 

The  help  we  hoped  —  the  advent  of  a  god ; 

For  Hercules,  the  great  avenger,  came, 

Exultant  in  three-bodied  Geryon's  death 

And  in  the  spoils  he  won.    His  mighty  bulls  ^50 

This  way  the  victor  drove.    His  oxen  filled 

The  valley  and  the  stream.    With  devilish  craft. 

So  evil  he  could  leave  no  crime  or  fraud 

Undared  or  unattempted,  Cacus  stole 

From  out  the  herd  four  of  the  biggest  bulls,  ^55 

And  bullocks  of  unusual  beauty  four ; 

And  lest,  if  driven  straight  on,  their  tracks  might  show, 

He  dragged  them  by  the  tail  into  his  den. 

Reversed  their  hoof-marks  from  the  way  they  went, 

And  hid  them  in  the  shadow  of  the  rocks,  —  ^60 

So  might  no  sign  lead  searcher  to  the  cave. 

Meantime,  soon  as  the  herds  of  Hercules 

Moved  from  their  bait  well  fed,  and  'gan  to  tramp, 

The  cattle  bellowed  as  they  went  their  way, 

With  their  loud  lowing  filled  the  woods,  and  left  ^^s 

The  echo  on  the  hills.    Then  bellowed  back 

One  of  the  bulls,  that  from  the  cavern  roared 

And  robbed  the  jailor  Cacus  of  his  hope. 

Rage  now  to  fury  flashed  in  Hercules' 


BOOK  VIII. 


Black  gall :  he  caught  his  weapons  in  his  hand,  270 

His  heavy  knotted  club,  and  sought  apace 

The  cloudy  mountain-top.    Then  saw  we  once 

E'en  Cacus  cower  with  terror  in  his  eyes. 

He  swifter  than  the  east  wind  ran  and  sought 

His  cave,  for  fear  did  wing  his  feet.    There  shut,  275 

He  broke  the  chains,  let  fall  the  ponderous  rock  — 

Hung  by  his  f athp's  skill  on  iron  links  — 

And  with  the  mass  the  entrance  made  secure. 

At  hand,  lo !  Hercules,  to  fury  lashed. 

Gnashing  his  teeth  and  peering  here  and  there, 

Surveys  each  avenue.    Thrice  strides  he  round 

Mount  Aventine,  ablaze  with  rage  ;  thrice  tries 

In  vain  that  gate  of  stone ;  thrice,  wearied  out, 

Sits  resting  in  the  gorge.    A  sharp  flint  rock. 

Cut  from  the  crags,  —  the  highest  point  in  sight, 

Fit  spot  for  ominous  birds  to  nest  —  stood  up 

And  over-rose  the  summit  of  the  cave. 

It  leaned  to  left  from  cliff-top  toward  the  stream ; 

And  Hercules,  his  right  hand  pressing  hard. 

Wrenched,  loosed  and  tore  it  from  its  very  roots,  ^90 

And  then  with  one  quick  impulse  hurled  it  down. 

While  thundered  loud  the  air,  the  river  banks 

Asunder  flew,  and  the  scared  stream  ran  back. 

There  full  disclosed  to  view  appeared  the  cave 

And  monster  den  of  Cacus,  and  far  in 

The  gloomy  arches  gaped.    So  yawning  earth. 

Split  from  its  centre,  bares  the  infernal  depths 

And  open  lays  the  ghastly  realms  at  which 

The  gods  recoil ;  beneath,  the  huge  abyss 

Is  seen,  and  ghosts  flit  cowering  from  the  glare.  300 


«5« 


THE  iENEID 


Caught  sudden  in  the  unexpected  light, 
Pent  in  the  rock,  and  roaring  past  all  wont, 
Down  on  him  Hercules  rains  showers  of  darts, 
To  bring  him  every  sort  of  missile  shouts, 
And  hurls  in  limbs  of  trees  and  monstrous  rocks  ;  305 
While  Cacus  —  no  escape  from  peril  left  — 
Pours,  strange  to  tell,  vast  clouds  of  smoke  from  out 
His  throat,  wraps  in  its  blinding  folds  the  vault, 
Till  nothing  can  be  seen,  and  through  the  cave 
Makes  thick  and   murky    night,    sparks  flashing 
through  310 
Its  gloom.    But  this  but  maddens  Hercules  : 
Straight  through  the  fire  he  headlong  flings  him  down, 
Where  densest  rolls  the  tide  of  smoke,  and  seethes 
The  dusky  vapor  through  the  black  abyss. 
At  once  he  clutches  Cacus — vain  the  flames  315 
He  belches  mid  the  dark  —  twists  him  in  knots. 
And  chokes  him,  griping  till  his  eyes  start  out 
And  not  a  drop  of  blood  is  in  his  throat. 
Wide  open  then  the  shadowy  cave  is  thrown. 
Its  doors  wrenched  off,  and  to  the  light  laid  bare  320 
The  stolen  cattle  and  the  perjurer's  theft. 
Out  by  the  feet  his  shapeless  corse  is  dragged ; 
Nor  can  the  gazers  get  their  fill,  but  gloat 
Upon  his  frightful  eyes,  his  half-beast  breast 
Bristling  with  shag,  the  dead  fire  in  his  throat.  3*5 
Grateful  posterity  since  then  this  feast 
Have  celebrated  and  this  day  have  kept. 
Potitius  was  the  founder  of  these  rites 
To  Hercules  ;  the  priestly  offices 
Are  still  in  the  Pinarian  family. 


BOOK  VIII. 


253 


This  altar  he  erected  in  the  woods, 

Called  ever  Maxima  by  us,  as  it 

Forever  Maxima  shall  be.    Come  then, 

Brave  men,  in  honor  of  such  famous  deeds 

Wreathe  with  the  leaf  your  locks,  and  lift  the  cup  33.S 

With  your  right  hands.    Upon  the  great  god  call. 

And  to  his  honor  freely  pour  the  wine." 

He  finished.    Double-hued,  the  poplar  veiled 
His  locks  with  its  Herculean  shade,  and  drooped 
Its  intertwining  leaves.    The  sacred  cup  340 
His  right  hand  filled.    Quick  on  the  table  all 
Their  glad  libations  poured,  and  called  the  god. 

Day  done  meantime,  the  vesper  nearer  fell. 
And  nojy  the  priests,  Potitius  at  their  head, 
Advanced,  robed  as  their  custom  was  in  skins,  345 
And  bore  the  torch.  They  lay  the  fe^st ;  they  spread 
The  delicacies  of  the  second  board. 
And  with  o'erflowing  chargers  heap  the  shrines. 
Then  round  the  incense-burning  altars  dance 
And  sing  the  Salii,  crowned  with  poplar  wreaths,  350 
A  band  of  young  men  here,  of  old  men  there. 
The  praise  and  deeds  of  Hercules  they  chant : 
How  first  he  strangled,  caught  in  either  hand, 
Two  monster  snakes,  his  step-dame  Juno  sent ; 
How  he  besieged  and  razed  those  famous  towns  3S5 
Troy  and  CEchalia :  how  he  too  achieved, 
As  king  Eurystheus'  slave,  by  Juno's  hate 
Compelled,  a  thousand  crushing  tasks.  "  'Twas  thou, 
Invincible,"  they  sang,  "whose  hand  laid  low 
The  cloud-born  Centaurs,  Pholus  and  Hylaeus,  360 
The  Cretan  monsters,  and  the  lion  huge 


254 


THE  /ENEID. 


That  underneath  the  cliffs  of  Nemea  lay ! 

Before  thee  shrank  the  Styx ;  the  janitor 

Of  hell  cowered  in  his  gory  cave,  and  left 

His  feast  of  bones  half-gnawed  !   No  goblin  shape,  365 

Not  vast  Typhoeus'  self  with  leveled  sword 

Made  thee  afraid,  undaunted  still  though  snapped 

At  thee  the  Lerna  hydra's  hundred  heads ! 

Hail,  thou  true  son  of  Jove,  who  to  the  gods 

An  added  honor  art !    In  these  thy  rites  370 

Bless  us,  and  with  a  favoring  step  draw  near !  " 

Such  were  the  songs  in  which  they  sang  his  praise. 
More  than  all  else,  of  Cacus'  cave  they  sang, 
And  Cacus'  self  whose  breath  was  fire.    Their  din, 
The  whole  wood  rang ;  back  echoed  it  the  hills.  37I) 

The  sacred  service  o'er,  all  to  the  town 
Return,  led  by  the  king,  now  ripe  in  years. 
Who  as  he  walks  attaches  to  his  side 
^neas  and  his  son,  and  lighter  makes 
The  way  with  talking  of  a  thousand  themes.  380 
^neas  is  all  eyes,  sees  everything 
Around  him  at  a  glance,  and  with  the  place 
Is  charmed.    Full  of  delight  he  asks  and  hears 
What  each  memorial  of  the  fathers  means. 

Spake  king  Evander  then,  who  founded  Rome :  385 
"  Fauns,  and  our  native  nymphs,  and  men  who  sprang 
From  tree-trunks  and  the  hardy  oaks,  these  groves 
Inhabited.    They  neither  culture  had 
Nor  home :  they  knew  not  how  to  yoke  the  ox, 
Or  wealth  lay  up,  or  save  it  when  acquired  :  390 
Their  food  was  twigs  and  the  tired  hunter's  meal. 
First  from  Olympus'  summit  Saturn  came, 


BOOK  VIIL 


255 


An  exile  fleeing  from  Jove's  thunderbolts, 

And  of  his  realm  despoiled.    He  trained  the  race, 

Dispersed  along  the  hills,  to  gentle  ways  39s 

And  gave  it  laws.    It  was  his  wish  to  call 

This  Latium,  for  he  on  these  shores  had  lain 

Securely  hid.    It  was  the  golden  age, 

Of  which  they  tell,  when  he  was  king — so  sweet 

The  peace  when  ^he  the  people  ruled.    On  this  400 

Grew  slow  a  meaner,  duller-metaled  age. 

The  insanity  of  war,  the  love  of  gain : 

The  Ausonian  and  Sicanian  tribes  came  next : 

Too  oft  the  land  of  Saturn  changed  its  name. 

Then  came  the  kings,  and  giant  Tybris  grim,  405 

By  whpse  name  we  Italians  since  have  called 

This  river  Tiber,  which  has  lost  its  old 

True  name  of  Albula.    Banished  the  land 

That  gave  me  birth,  the  sea's  last  perils  dared, 

Resistless  fortune  and  relentless  fate  410 

Have  set  me  here.    So  the  dread  warnings  bade, 

That  from  my  mother,  nymph  Carmentis,  came, 

And  from  Apollo,  patron  god  of  mine." 

E'en  as  he  spake,  advancing  thence,  he  showed 
The  shrine  and  gate,  an  ancient  monument  415 
They  say  —  Carmental  is  its  Roman  name  — 
Raised  to  that  prophetess  of  truth,  the  nymph 
Carmentis,  who  first  sang  the  Trojans  yet 
Would  mighty  be,  and  Pallanteum  great. 
Then  the  vast  grove  he  showed,  that  Romulus  430 
To  an  asylum  turned,  and  the  cool  grot 
Lupercal,  named  in  the  Arcadian  phrase 
In  honor  of  Lycaean  Pan,  —  showed,  too,  v 


256 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  grove  of  sacred  Argiletum,  where 

He  told  of  his  guest  Argus'  death  and  swore  425 

There  on  the  spot  that  he  was  innocent. 

Anon  to  the  Tarpeian  rock  he  leads 

The  way,  and  to  the  Capitol,  now  gold, 

Then  rough  with  briar  and  wood.    Yet  even  then 

The  awful  sanctity  that  wrapt  the  place 

Frightened  the  timid  rustics,  and  they  shook 

At  every  tree  and  rock.    "This  very  grove," 

He  said,  "this  summit  with  its  leafy  top, 

A  god  —  what  god,  unknown  —  inhabited. 

The  Arcadians  think  'twas  Jove  himself  they  saw ;  43s 

For  oft  in  his  right  hand  he  shook  aloft 

His  frowning  aegis,  and  drove  up  the  storm. 

Here  too  you  see  two  fortressed  towers,  their  walls 

Demolished  now,  relics  and  monuments 

Of  men  of  yore.    One  father  Janus  built,  440 

The  other  Saturn :  one  Janiculum, 

The  other  once  the  name  Saturnia  bore." 

In  talk  like  this,  Evander's  modest  home 
They  reach,  while  here  and  there  before  their  eyes 
Are  cattle  bellowing  where  anon  shall  stand  445 
The  Roman  forum  and  Rome's  proudest  street. 
The  palace  gained,  "  Once  Hercules,"  he  said, 
"  A  victor  o'er  this  threshold  strode ;  to  him 
This  royal  hall  gave  welcome.    Take  thou  heart, 
O  guest,  to  laugh  at  wealth ;  show  that  thou  too  45° 
Art  worthy  of  the  god ;  nor  come  thou  here 
To  mock  our  poverty."    So  spake,  and  led 
Beneath  the  rafters  of  his  humble  roof 
The  great  JEneas.    On  a  couch  of  leaves 


BOOK  VIII. 


257 


And  Libyan  lion-skins  he  seated  him.  '»55 

Night  speeds  its  dusky  wings  around  the  earth 
To  wrap.    Then  mother  Venus,  not  without 
Good  reason  timid,  startled  at  the  threats 
And  heady  tumult  of  the  Laurentines, 
To  Vulcan  speaks,  breathing  in  every  word 
Celestial  passion  as  she  thus  begins, 
Snug  in  the  golden  bedroom  of  her  lord : 
"  Long  as  the  Grecian  kings  were  wasting  Troy 
With  wars  that  Troy  deserved ;  while  sank  its  towers 
Beneath  the  burning  of  the  foe,  no  help  46s 
Of  thine  I  asked  to  aid  them  in  defeat. 
Nor  that  thy  deft  hand  forge  them  arms.    No  wish 
Had  I  that  thou  should'st  spend  thy  toil  in  vain, 
E'en,  dearest  husband,  though  to  Priam's  sons 
I  owed  so  much,  and  at  the  hard  lot  oft  -♦^f 
Of  my  ^neas  wept.    But  now  he  stands 
At  Jove's  behest  on  the  Rutulian  shores ; 
And  I,  my  heart  the  same,  a  suppliant  come, 
A  mother  for  her  son,  and  of  thy  grace 
That  is  to  me  so  sacred,  beg  thee  arms  ^'^^ 
For  him.    Aurora  with  her  tears  had  power, 
And  Thetis  had,  to  influence  thee.    Nay,  see 
What  nations  press  him,  and  what  cities  shut 
Their  gates  and  whet  the  sword  to  slaughter  me 
And  mine."    And  while  she  spake,  her  snow-white 
arms  480 
Round  him  the  goddess  twined,  and  fondled  him. 
Resisting  still  her  soft  embrace,  anon 
The  wonted  glow  he  felt :  he  knew  the  fire 
That  shot  him  to  the  quick,  and  ran  in  thrills 
Through  every  nerve :  so  through  the  rifted  clouds  48$ 
17 


THE  .ENEID. 


Streams,  blazing  on  its  fiery  edge  of  flame, 

The  hissing  thunderbolt.    Pleased  at  the  trick, 

Sure  of  her  charms,  the  woman  felt  him  yield ; 

While  Vulcan,  by  the  passion  old  as  earth 

O'ercome,  replied  :  "  Why  beat  about  the  bush  ?  490 

Why,  goddess,  hath  thy  faith  in  me  relaxed  ? 

Nay,  hadst  thou  pleaded  with  me  half  as  hard, 

I  would  have  also  made  the  Trojans  arms. 

For  not  the  Almighty  Father,  nor  the  fates 

Forbade  Troy  stand,  or  Priam  ten  years  more  495 

Survive.    E'en  now,  if  thou  mean'st  war,  if  such 

Thy  resolution  is,  I  pledge  thee  all 

That  skill  can  in  my  art  avail,  whate'er 

In  steel  or  molten  metal  can  be  wrought. 

Whatever  forge  or  right  good  will  can  do.  5<» 

Weaken  thy  influence  not,  by  doubting  mine." 

So  spake,  and  gave  the  embrace  solicited. 

At  rest  upon  the  bosom  of  his  wife. 

He  drew  into  his  limbs  the  peace  of  sleep. 

So  till  just  past  the  midmost  turn  of  night.  sos 
Then,  as  the  housewife  who,  compelled  to  eke 
Her  life  with  toil  and  labor  at  the  loom, 
The  ashes  parts  and  blows  the  slumbering  coals. 
Adding  the  night  to  work,  and  till  the  dawn 
Keeping  her  servants  at  their  weary  task,  5'° 
That  so  she  chaste  may  keep  her  husband's  bed. 
And  raise  her  little  ones  —  as  prompt  as  she, 
The  fire-god  springs  from  rest  to  work  the  forge. 

Off  Sicily  and  ^olian  Lipara, 
An  island  lifts  its  steep  and  sea-beat  cliffs.  s^s 
Beneath  its  caves  Etnean  caverns,  wrought 


BOOK  VIII. 


259 


For  forges  of  the  Cyclops,  thunder  there. 

Stout  blows  are  heard  on  anvils  echoing  loud, 

The  vaults  all  hissing  with  the  iron  flux, 

Flame  panting  from  the  furnaces.    It  is 

The  home  of  Vulcan  and  the  spot  is  named 

Vulcania.    It  is  here  the  fire-god  now 

From  heaven's  top  comes  down.    In  the  deep  cave 

Are  Cyclops  —  Brontes,  Steropes,  and  nude 

Pyracmon  —  forging  iron  :  the  thunderbolt  s^s 

Is  in  their  hands  unshapen  and  half  made. 

While  half  is  still  unwrought, —  though  often  thus 

Jove  hurls  it  to  the  earth  from  every  part 

Of  heaven.    Already  have  they  spiked  to  it 

Three  jets  of  stinging  hail,  as  many  more  sso 

Of  bursting  rain,  three  of  the  lightning's  flash, 

And  of  the  whirlwind  three ;  and  now  are  they 

Inserting  in  their  work  its  frightful  glare 

And  roar  and  terror,  and  the  lightning  wrath 

Of  its  avenging  fire.    Elsewhere,  for  Mars  53S 

They  fashion  chariots  and  the  swift  car  wheels 

With  which  nations  and  men  to  strife  he  stirs. 

Fighting  Minerva's  fearful  shield  and  arms 

They  vie  in  burnishing  with  serpent  scales 

And  gold,  with  snakes  all  intercoiled,  with  e'en  540 

The  Gorgon's  head  upon  the  goddess'  breast, 

Its  head  dissevered  and  its  eyes  a-roll. 

"  Leave  all !  "  he  cries.   "  Let  go  the  work  on  hand, 
Etnean  Cyclops,  and  give  me  your  ears ! 
A  brave  chief's  armor  must  be  made.    Need  now  S4S 
Of  strength,  of  rapid  handiwork,  and  all 
The  master-workman's  skill.   Quick  to  the  forge  ! " 


26o 


THE  iENEID. 


No  more  spake  he ;  yet  quicker  than  he  spake, 

They  all  laid  on,  his  part  ,  allotted  each 

Alike.    Rivers  of  metal  flow,  of  brass  sso  ' 

And  gold.    In  the  huge  furnace  melts  the  steel, 

The  creature  of  the  fire.    A  mighty  shield, 

Alone  enough  for  all  the  Latins'  spears, 

They  forge ;  seven  fold  they  make  it,  orb  on  orb. 

While  some  with  bellows  suck  and  force  the  air,  555 

Others  plunge*  in  the  trough  the  hissing  brass. 

Beneath  the  blows  that  fall  the  anvil  rings. 

With  mighty 'force  alternately  their  arms 

They  lift,  each  keeping  stroke,  while  e'er  they  turn 

With  tightly  griping  tongs  the  hammered  mass.  560 

While  Vulcan  thus  on  the  ^Eolian  coast 
Makes  haste.  Dawn  and  the  morning  songs 
Of  birds,  that  fly  and  sing  about  his  roof. 
Invite  Evander  from  his  modest  door. 
The  patriarch  rises,  puts  his  tunic  on,  565 
And  ties  his  Tuscan  sandals  'neath  his  feet : 
About  his  waist  and  o'er  his  shoulder  next 
He  buckles  his  Tegean  sword,  and  throws 
Across  the  left  a  falling  panther's  skin. 
From  off  the  upper  step,  two  faithful  hounds  S7« 
Spring  up  and  follow  at  their  master's  heels. 
He  seeks  his  guest  Eneas'  hut  and  room. 
Mindful,  the  hero,  of  the  talk  they  had. 
And  of  his  promised  aid.    -^neas,  too. 
Is  early  up.    Pallas,  his  son,  with  one,  srs 
Achates  with  the  other  walks.    They  meet. 
Right  hands  they  clasp,  and  sitting  mid  the  court 
Enjoy  at  length  uninterrupted  talk. 


BOOK  VIII. 


261 


First  speaks  the  king :  "  Greatest  of  Trojan  chiefs, 

Ne'er  will  I  own,  while  thou  surviv'st,  that  Troy  sSo 

Hath  lost  her  empire  or  her  power.    'Tis  small, 

Remembering  what  the  name  we  bear,  the  aid 

That  we  can  furnish  for  the  war.    This  side 

The  Tiber  shuts ;  that  the  Rutulian  guards. 

And  yells  his  war-cry  at  our  very  gates.  585 

And  yet  I  see  my  way  to  reinforce 

Thy  camp  from  mighty  peoples  and  from  realms 

Of  opulence,  unhoped-for  luck  the  way 

Of  safety  showing.    Hither  at  the  call 

Of  fate  itself  thou  com'st.    Not  far  away,  sv> 

Argylla's  city,  built  of  time-worn  rock. 

Hath  been  inhabited  since  on  the  hills 

Of  Tuscany  the  Lydian  nation  set. 

Illustrious  in  the  wars,  its  colonies. 

For  many  years  Mezentius  was  the  king  59S 

In  that  brave  town, —  tyrannical  his  reign, 

Sustained  but  by  the  brutal  force  of  arms. 

Why  need  I  tell  what  cruel  slaughters  his, 

What  deeds  of  savageness  the  tyrant  dared  ? 

May  yet  the  gods  visit  on  him  and  his  600 

Like  horrors!   It  was  e'en  his  wont  to  link 

The  living  to  the  dead,  face  laid  on  face 

And  hand  to  hand  —  quintessent  torturing  — 

And  rack  them,  fainting  in  that  dread  embrace 

Of  gore  and  rot,  in  lingering  throes  of  death.  60s 

So,  till,  at  length  worn  out,  his  subjects  flew 

To  arms ;  his  house  and  him,  mad  past  all  bounds. 

They  sieged,  his  comrades  slew,  and  fired  his  roof. 

Eluding  them,  he  mid  the  slaughter  fled, 


262 


THE  ^NEID. 


To  the  Rutulian  boundaries,  and  sought 
A  guest's  protection  under  Turnus'  flag. 
So  'tis  all  Tuscany  is  up  in  arms, 
Its  anger  just,  and  claims  for  punishment 
Its  king  on  pain  of  instant  war.    Thee  chief 
I'll  make,  ^neas,  of  their  soldiery.  615 
For,  packed  the  whole  shore  down,  their  galleys 
chafe 

And  clamor  for  the  signal  of  advance. 

An  old  seer  keeps  them,  chanting  thus  the  fates  : 

0  chosen  warriors  of  Mceoiiia's  soil, 

Ye  flower  and  bravery  of  our  ancient  stock,  620 
Whom  righteous  ve7igeance  arms  agaiitst  the  foe, 
And  whom  Mezentius  stings  to  honest  wrath, 
'  Tis  fated  that  no  son  of  Italy 
Command  so  stout  a  race:  seek  ye  a  chief 
Of  foreign  birth  !    And  so  the  Tuscan  host, 
Stunned  by  these  warnings  of  the  gods,  keep  camp. 
Tarchon  hath  sent  ambassadors  to  me, 
And  to  my  hands  the  sceptre  and  the  crown, 
The  insignia  of  the  realm,  in  hope  that  I 
Will  to  their  tents  repair  and  take  on  me  ^30 
The  Tuscan  rule.    But  age,  worn  out  with  years 
And  chilled  to  heaviness,  robs  me  that  power, 
My  energies  too  spent  for  martial  deeds. 

1  would  have  urged  my  son,  but  that  in  part, 

A  Sabine  mother's  blood  mixed  in  his  veins,  ^^s 

His  parentage  is  native.    But  go  thou, 

Of  Trojans  and  Italians  bravest  chief, 

Thou,  on  whose  years  and  race  fate  smiles,  and  whom 

The  powers  of  heaven  demand.    Nay,  Pallas  here, 


BOOK  VIII. 


263 


My  son,  the  hope  and  solace  of  my  life,  ^40 

Will  I  ally  with  thee.   Be  thou  his  guide, 

And  let  him  learn  as  he  shall  see  thy  deeds, 

To  do  a  soldier's  duty,  and  to  bear 

War's  heavy  brunt,  his  admiration  thou 

From  this  hour  forth.    Two  hundred  cavalry,  ^45 

Come  of  Arcadian  stock,  the  very  flower 

Of  our  young  men,  I'll  give  him.    Pallas  thee 

As  many  more  shall  in  his  own  name  give." 

Ere  this  ^neas  Anchisiades, 
Faithful  Achates  too,  their  eyes  bent  down,  ^5° 
Were  thinking  in  their  own  sad  hearts  how  long 
And  hard  the  road,  when  Venus  gave  a  sign. 
Though  not  a  vapor  flecked  the  sky.    For  quick 
Out  of  the  ether  burst  the  quivering  flash 
And  thunder-clap :  all  seemed  to  crash  at  once,  ^ss 
As  through  the  air  there  rang  a  blast  as  if 
A  Tuscan  bugle  blew.    They  start.    Loud,  loud, 
The  mighty  thunder  peals.    Borne  on  a  cloud, 
Where  else  is  all  serene,  through  the  clear  air 
They  see  the  gleam  of  arms  and  hear  the  clash  ^ 
Of  steel.    All  others  dazed,  the  man  of  Troy 
Knows  w^ell  the  sound,  his  goddess  mother's  sign. 
And  cries :  "  Ask  not,  my  friend,  ask  not  indeed. 
What  these  portents  foretell.    It  is  the  voice 
Of  heaven.    My  goddess  mother  gave  her  word 
That  she  would  send  this  sign,  if  war  should  threat, 
And  to  my  aid  would  bring  me  through  the  air 
Armor  of  Vulcan's  make.    Ah  me  !  what  deaths 
For  these  poor  Latins  are  in  store !  Turnus, 
Ah  !  how  shalt  thou  to  me  atone  !    How  thick  ^70 


264 


THE  .^:neid. 


The  heroes'  shields  and  helms  and  corses  brave. 
Thou,  father  Tiber,  shalt  roll  on !    Now  let 
Them  break  the  truce  and  set  the  battle-line." 

No  sooner  said  than  from  his  lofty  seat 
He  rose.    At  once  he  blows  aflame  the  coals  ^vs 
That  slumber  on  the  shrine  of  Hercules 
And  on  the  Lar  he  worshipped  yesterday, 
And  on  his  modest  household  gods  attends. 
Evander  and  the  Trojan  youth  alike 
Make  sacrifice  of  duly-chosen  sheep  :  680 
Next,  to  the  fleet  they  go,  their  comrades  find 
Again,  and  out  of  those  who  to  the  wars 
Are  bent,  pick  the  most  valorous  men.    The  rest 
Take  to  the  current  and  float  lazily 
Adown  the  stream,  to  bear  Ascanius  thus 
The  tidings  how  fare  fortune  and  his  sire. 
Horses  are  furnished  to  those  Trojan  braves, 
Who  to  the  Tuscan  land  set  out.    The  best, 
They  bring  ^Eneas,  shod  with  golden  shoes, 
Caparisoned  with  tawny  lion's  skin.  690 

Quick  runs  the  rumor  through  that  little  town 
That  horsemen  ride  apace  unto  the  king 
Of  Tuscany's  domain.    Mothers  repeat 
Their  prayers  in  terror  o'er  and  o'er.    As  nears 
The  danger,  so  the  terror  of  it  spreads.  ^95 
Already  blacker  lowers  the  front  of  war. 
Evander  clings  to  his  departing  boy. 
His  right  hand  clasped  in  his,  and  while  the  tears 
Flow  ceaselessly,  he  cries  :  "  Oh,  would  that  Jove 
Would  bring  the  dead  years  back !  that  I  were  now  t^* 
As  when  beneath  Preneste's  towers  I  charged 


BOOK  VIII. 


265 


The  battle's  edge  and  burned,  a  victor  there, 

My  holocaust  of  shields,  and  with  this  hand 

Struck  down  to  hell  king  Herilus,  whose  dam, 

Feronia,  gave  him — frightful  though  the  tale —  705 

Three  lives  at  birth  —  three  armor  suits  to  wear! 

Thrice  must  he  fall  in  death ;  yet  all  his  lives 

This  right  hand  then  took  off  and  all  his  suits 

Of  armor  stripped.    I  would  not  then  be  torn 

From  thy  dear  arms,  my  son,  nor  ever  had  710 

Mezentius,  scorning  me  his  neighbor,  dared 

So  many  put  with  sword  to  brutal  death, 

Or  of  so  many  subjects  robbed  the  state. 

But  oh,  ye  gods,  thou  Jove,  great  Lord  of  Heaven, 

Pity,  I  beg,  Arcadia's  king,  and  hear  715 

A  father's  prayers  !    If  but  your  grace,  if  fate 

Will  bring  back  Pallas  safe  to  me,  if  I 

Shall  live  to  see  him  and  come  unto  him, 

There  is  no  load  I  cannot  bear.    But  if, 

O  Fortune,  aught  of  evil  thou  dost  threat,  720 

Then  now,  ay  now !  let  snap  life's  cruel  thread. 

While  love  is  yet  suspense,  while  hope  still  tints 

The  future's  doubt,  while  thee,  dear  boy,  my  last 

And  only  hope,  I  hold  within  my  arms ! 

Else  may  some  sadder  message  smite  my  ear."  725 

So  sobbed  the  father  as  he  turned  away : 

His  servants  bore  him  fainting  to  his  home. 

Ere  this  the  cavalcade  had  ridden  through 
The  open  gates,  ^neas  at  the  head, 
Faithful  Achates  at  his  side,  and  next  73« 
The  other  Trojan  chiefs  —  Pallas  himself 
The  centre  of  a  group,  conspicuous  seen 


266 


THE  iENEID. 


His  scarf  and  the  bright  blazon  of  his  arms. 

So  Lucifer,  whom  Venus  loves  beyond 

All  other  stars,  up-dripping  from  the  lave  73S 

Of  Ocean,  sets  his  glorious  front  in  heaven 

And  lets  the  shadows  loose.    Upon  the  walls 

Stand  anxious  mothers,  following  with  their  eyes 

The  dust-trail  and  the  flash  of  clustering  helms, 

As  through  the  bush,  straight  as  the  arrow  flies,  74c 

The  warriors  ride.    Up  goes  a  cheer ;  close  up 

The  ranks,  while  e'er  to  powder  trod,  the  earth 

Beats  to  the  hoofs  of  the  four-footed  steeds. 

A  thick  grove  lines  cool  Cseris'  river-bank  : 
Sacred  our  fathers  held  it  far  and  near.  745 
All  in  the  hollows  of  the  hills  'tis  shut, 
Fringed  in  with  curtains  of  the  dark-green  fir. 
As  goes  the  tale,  the  old  Pelasgi  men. 
Who  the  first  dwellers  were  on  Latin  soil. 
Hallowed  this  grove,  and  set  apart  a  day  75c 
Unto  Sylvanus,  god  of  field  and  flock. 
Near  this,  had  Tarchon  and  the  Tuscans  pitched 
Their  camp,  where  nature's  self  defended  it. 
From  the  hill-top  the  whole  host  lay  in  sight. 
Outstretched  across  the  open  fields.    Here  came  7ss 
^neas  and  his  chosen  men  of  war. 
And  gave  their  weary  limbs  and  coursers  rest. 

Fair  goddess  seen  amid  the  floating  clouds. 
Bringing  her  gifts,  lo  !  Venus  was  at  hand. 
Though  still  afar,  soon  as  she  saw  her  son  76a 
By  the  cool  stream  and  in  a  dell  apart, 
She  stood  across  his  path  and  spake  him  thus : 
"  Behold  the  gifts  my  husband's  plighted  skill 


BOOK  VIII. 


267 


Hath  wrought !    Thou  shalt  not  fear  thee  soon, 

My  child,  to  challenge  to  the  fight  the  proud  7^5 

Laurentian  chiefs,  or  gallant  Turnus'  self." 

So  Venus  spake,  caught  in  her  arms  her  son, 

And  hung  the  shining  armor  on  an  oak, 

Full  in  his  view.    Ecstatic  at  the  gifts. 

And  such  an  honor  from  the  goddess'  hand,  770 

He  cannot  look  enough,  but  rolls  his  eyes 

O'er  every  inch.    In  wonder  lost,  at  hand 

And  at  arm's  length  he  holds  them  back  and  forth  ;  — 

The  helmet,  terrible  with  plumes  that  seem 

Like  bursts  of  flame ;  the  deadly  sword ;  the  huge  775 

And  fiery  shimmering  mail,  all  stiff  with  rings 

Of  brass,  as  when  the  set  sun  tints  the  cloud 

That  blushes  back  afar ;  the  shining  greaves 

Inlaid  with  silver  and  with  gold  j  the  spear ; 

The  shield's  devices,  past  all  words  to  tell.  780 

For  on  it  had  the  God  of  Fire,  acquaint 
With  prophecy,  and  prescient  of  the  age 
To  come,  enwrought  the  might  of  Italy, 
The  victories  of  Rome,  Ascanius'  whole 
Descending  line,  and  each  successive  war.  785 
At  full  length  lies  a  nursing  wolf  athwart 
A  grassy  cave  of  Mars :  about  her  teats 
Gambol  and  cling  two  boys  as  fearlessly 
As  if  they  did  their  mother  suck,  while  she. 
Curving  her  tapering  neck,  caresses  them  790 
By  turns,  and  licks  their  bodies  with  her  tongue, 
Near  by  is  Rome,  where  'gainst  all  dealing  fair, 
Amid  the  great  Circensian  games,  from  out 
The  crowded  ring  are  stolen  the  Sabine  girls. 


268 


THE  ^NEID. 


Whence  instant  war  breaks  out  'twixt  Romulus  79s 
And  the  stern  Sabines  by  old  Tatius  led  : 
Yet  soon,  the  battle  truced,  the  same  two  kings 
Stand  with  their  armor  on  before  Jove's  shrine 
And,  cup  in  hand,  in  firm  alliance  join, 
A  victim  killed  in  token  of  their  league. 
Not  far  from  them,  four  straining  chariot-steeds 
Drag  Metius'  limbs  apart,  —  Alban,  thy  word 
Thou  should'st  have  kept  —  and  Tullus  through  the 
wood 

Scatters  the  liar's  limbs,  while  here  and  there 

The  bushes  are  bespattered  with  his  blood. 

Porsenna  mightily  besieges  Rome, 

And  bids  it  let  the  banished  Tarquin  in  : 

For  freedom,  sword  to  sword  the  Romans  charge. 

There  could  you  see  Porsenna  mad  with  rage 

And  breathing  vengeance  for  that  Codes  dared 

Cut  down  the  bridge,  or  Clcelia  break  her  chains 

And  safely  swim  across  the  Tiber's  flood. 

Upon  the  top  of  the  Tarpeian  rock, 

Before  the  temple,  Manlius  stands  to  guard 

The  lofty  Capitol  where,  freshly  thatched, 

Bristles  the  royal  hut  of  Romulus. 

Across  the  gold-bossed  porticos,  the  goose. 

Of  silver  wrought,  flies  warning  them  the  Gauls 

Are  at  the  gate.    The  Gauls  themselves  appear, 

As  they  amid  the  bushes  scale  the  cliff,  ^^o 

The  gloom  and  favor  of  the  heavy  night 

Protecting  them.    Flaxen  their  hair,  and  gilt 

The  embroidery  of  their  dress.    They  shine  in  coats 

Of  many  hues,  their  fair  necks  clasped  with  chains 


THE  ^NEID. 


269 


Of  gold,  each  brandishing  two  Alpine  spears, 
Their  bodies  guarded  with  low-reaching  shields. 
Then  carvings  of  the  dancing  Salii, 
Naked  Luperci,  tufted  woolen  caps, 
The  shields  that  fell  from  heaven  !    Chaste  matrons 
lead 

Holy  processions  through  the  town,  conveyed  ^30 

In  cushioned  cars.    Not  far  away  appear 

The  realms  of  Tartarus,  hell's  yawning  jaws, 

The  penalties  of  guilt :  there  Catiline 

Hangs  from  a  rock  that  ever  threats  to  fall, 

And  trembles  as  the  Furies  glare  at  him.  ^35 

There  too  the  calm  retreats  of  holy  dead. 

And  Cato  unto  them  dispensing  law. 

Amid  all  these  a  scene  was  wrought  in  gold 

Of  the  wide  rolling  sea,  its  blue  afoam 

With  crests  of  surf.    Bright  silver  dolphins  lash  840 

The  water  with  their  tails,  in  circles  play. 

And  cut  the  water  through.    There  might  you  see 

The  crisis  of  the  fight  at  Actium  fought. 

The  galleys  with  their  brazen  peaks,  while  all 

Leucate  bristles  with  the  battle  line,  ^4S 

A  golden  shimmer  rippling  from  the  waves. 

There  standing  on  the  lofty  stern,  amid 

His  senators,  his  people  and  his  gods  — 

His  country's  gods  and  the  great  Deities  — 

Augustus  Caesar  leads  into  the  fight 

The  men  of  Italy.    Two  jets  of  flame 

In  happy  augury  from  his  temples  leap, 

While  on  his  brow  glows  clear  the  Julian  star. 

Elsewhere,  the  gods  and  breezes  favoring  him, 


270 


THE  iENEID. 


Agrippa  mounts  the  deck  and  leads  the  fleet:  855 
Proud  diadem  of  victor}^,  his  head 
Is  wreathed  refulgent  with  the  naval  crown. 
Ranged  on  the  other  side  is  Antony, 
Barbaric  wealth  and  many  forces  his. 
Victorious  from  the  nations  of  the  Dawn  860 
And  the  Red  Sea,  he  to  the  combat  brings 
EgA'pt,  the  soldiers  of  the  Orient, 
And  Bactra,  farthest  city  of  the  East. 
Shame  !  his  Eg}'ptian  mistress  follows  him  ! 
Both  sides  bear  down  at  once.    The  ocean  foams 
Torn  with  the  writhing  oars  and  trident  beaks. 
They  heap  the  sea.    You  would  have  thought  they 
were 

The  Cyclades,  wrenched  from  their  ocean  bed, 

That  floated  there,  or  mountain  peaks  that  clashed. 

So  hugely  tower  the  decks  where  throng  the  men.  ^"^ 

Tow  balls  of  fire  they  throw ;  the  air  is  thick 

With  missile  steel ;  redder  than  e'er  before, 

The  fields  of  Neptune  with  the  slaughter  grow. 

The  queen  amid  the  thickest  of  the  fight 

Her  countr}^'s  timbrel  strikes  to  fire  her  crews,  ^7S 

Nor  yet  the  two  asps  sees  pursuing  her. 

'Tis  Neptune,  Venus  and  Minerva  'gainst 

A  monstrous  polymix  of  heathen  gods 

And  their  watch-dog  Anubis.    Clad  in  steel, 

Mars  through  the  centre  of  the  combat  flames. 

Swoop  the  grim  Furies  from  the  sky.    Her  robe 

To  tatters  torn,  exulting  Discord  stalks. 

Chased  by  Bellona  with  her  bloody  scourge. 

Apollo  lookb  i:rom  Actium  o'er  the  scene, 


BOOK  VIII. 


271 


And  strains  his  bow;  till  panic-struck  at  that,  ^^s 

All  Egypt,  Ind,  Arabia  and  the  whole 

Sabaean  host  take  flight.    The  queen  herself 

Is  seen,  shrieking  the  winds  to  fill  her  sails, 

Quick  loose  the  sheets  !  Her  had  the  Fire-God  carved 

Amid  the  slaughter,  pale  at  death's  approach,  ^go 

Winging  her  flight  with  wind  and  wave  to  where 

The  mighty  current  of  the  sorrowing  Nile 

Opens  its  arms,  and,  wide  expanding,  calls 

Its  vanquished  children  to  its  azure  breast. 

To  shelter  them  within  its  harboring  streams.  ^95 

Then  borne  through  Rome,  a  triple  triumph  his, 

Caesar  unto  the  gods  of  Italy 

Pays  his  immortal  vow,  and  consecrates, 

The  city  through,  proud  temples  to  the  gods. 

The  streets  are  wild  with  merriment  and  sports  900 

And  acclamations  of  delight,  a  band 

Of  matrons  at  each  shrine,  each  altar  fired. 

He  sits  in  person  at  the  snow-white  gate 

Before  Apollo's  shining  temple  front 

And  thanks  the  people  for  the  gifts  they  pile  905 

Around  its  haughty  columns.    Conquered  tribes 

In  long  procession  pass  before  his  eyes. 

Their  speech  as  various  as  their  dress  and  arms. 

For  here  had  Vulcan  wrought  the  Nomad  race. 

The  easy-going  sons  of  Africa,  910 

Carians,  and  Leleges  and  the  arrow-skilled 

Geloni.    Gentlier  flows  Euphrates'  now. 

The  Morini,  remotest  race  of  men, 

The  branching  waters  of  the  river  Rhine, 

The  untamed  Dahae,  and  Araxes'  flood  9*5 


272 


THE  iENEID. 


Too  proud  to  bear  a  bridge,  acknowledge  him. 

Such  is  the  gift  —  the  shield  that  Vulcan  wrought  — 
His  mother's  gift,  o'er  which  ^neas  hangs, 
And  happy  at  the  dream,  yet  ignorant  all 
Of  its  reality,  ashoulder  flings 
The  fortunes  and  the  glory  of  his  seed. 


Iris, 

From  the  Gallery  of  St.  Luke,  Rome. 


NINTH  BOOK. 


7"HILE  thus  it  fares  in  the  interior  part, 
^  ^      Iris  from  heaven  Saturnian  Juno  sends 
Down  to  bold  Turnus.    Happed  it  then  he  sat 
In  his  progenitor  Pilumnus'  grove, 
Within  a  sacred  vale.    From  rosy  lips,  s 
Thus  Thaumas'  daughter  spake  to  him:  "Now  hath 
The  whirligig  of  time  brought  that,  which  had'st 
Thou,  Turnus,  asked  it,  e'en  no  god  had  dared 
To  promise  thee.    Camp,  comrades,  fleet  all  left. 
To  Palatine  Evander's  realm  and  home  ^° 
^neas  hath  set  out ;  nay,  penetrates 
To  the  remotest  towns  of  Corythus, 
Amid  the  Tuscan  hosts,  and  there  recruits 
And  arms  the  peasant-folk.    Why  hesitate  ? 
Now  is  the  time  thy  steeds  and  chariots  forth  »5 
To  summon  to  the  charge.    Burst  all  delay, 
And  storm  his  camp  while  'wildered  with  alarm." 

So  spake,  and  rose  to  heaven  on  even  wing. 
And  in  her  flight  trailed  her  majestic  bow 
Athwart  the  clouds.   The  chieftain  knew  her  then,  ^° 
Stretched  heavenward  both  his  hands,  and  as  she  fled 
Such  were  the  words  with  which  he  followed  her ; 
"  Iris,  thou  grace  of  heaven,  who  thee  hath  sent, 
Borne  on  the  clouds  to  earth,  a  messenger 
To  me  ?  Whence  comes  so  quick  this  burst  of  light  ? 
I  see  the  ether  rent  in  twain,  and  stars 
i8 


274 


THE  iENEID. 


That  circle  round  the  pole.    Whoe'er  thou  art 
That  call'st  me  to  the  fight  with  such  a  sign, 
I  will  obey."    Thus  spake,  and  to  the  stream  . 
He  ran,  and  from  its  surface  sucked  a  draught,  30 
Prayed  long  the  gods  and  piled  the  air  with  vows. 

Already  marshaled  on  the  open  field, 
His  whole  array  advances,  rich  in  steeds, 
And  rich  in  brilliant  trappings  and  in  gold. 
Messapus  leads  the  van,  while  Tyrrheus'  sons  35 
Push  forward  the  reserves.    Seen  of  all  eyes, 
His  spear  in  hand,  his  head  o'ertopping  all 
The  rest,  Turnus  commands  the  middle  line. 
So  the  deep  Ganges  quietly  flows  on, 
Seven  silent  rivers  rising  into  one  ;  40 
So  with  its  fertilizing  stream,  the  Nile 
Creeps  from  the  field  and  in  its  channel  glides. 

Forth  look  the  Trojans  then,  and  see  arise 
A  heavy  cloud  of  dust,  that  loweringly 
Rolls  in  upon  their  camp.    Caicus  first 
Shouts  from  the  outer  wall :    "  What  is  this  globe, 
O  citizens,  of  dark  inrolling  dust ! 
Quick  to  your  arms !  advance  your  spears,  and  man 
The  walls  !    Ye  gods !  it  is  the  foe."    Then  pour 
The  Trojans  with  a  shout  through  every  gate  so 
And  on  the  ramparts  throng,  for,  when  he  went. 
Should  any  accident  meantime  befall. 
Thus  had  ^neas  bid,  himself  the  best 
Of  all  their  soldiers,  —  not  to  risk  a  charge, 
Nor  take  the  open  field,  but  only  keep  55 
Their  camp,  and  make  themselves  secure  behind 
The  bulwark  of  their  walls.    And  though  a  sense 


BOOK  IX. 


27s 


Of  rage  and  shame  to  close  encounter  prick, 
They  shut  their  gates,  obedient  to  his  hest, 
And  under  arms  await  the  enemy  ^ 
Behind  the  shelter  of  their  fortresses. 

Turnus  outstrips  his  tardy  troops.    He  rides 
Far  in  advance,  twenty  picked  chiefs  in  train, 
And  suddenly  appears  before  the  camp 
Upon  a  dappled  Thracian  charger  borne, 
And  capped  with  helm  of  gold  and  crimson  plumes. 
"  Who  first,  my  chiefs,  with  me  upon  the  foe  ?  " 
He  cries,  as  brandishing  his  spear  aloft 
He  hurls  it  through  the  air  —  opening  the  fight  — 
And  rides  majestic  o'er  the  field.    With  shouts 
And  hoarse  huzzas  his  comrades  follow  him. 
They  wonder  at  the  Trojans'  want  of  pluck ; 
Wonder  that  men  should  fear  an  open  field. 
Nor  stand  a  charge,  but  hug  their  camp.  Enraged, 
Spurs  Turnus  to  and  fro  before  the  walls,  75 
And  seeks  an  entrance  but  no  entrance  finds. 
So  lurks  the  wolf  when  full  the  fold,  and  growls 
Around  the  sheep-cotes  half  the  night,  though  beat 
By  wind  and  rain :  beneath  the  sheep  the  lambs 
In  safety  bleat,  while  he,  infuriate  there 
And  fierce,  snaps  at  the  prey  he  cannot  reach, 
Spent  with  the  madness  of  long  famishing. 
His  jaws  athirst  for  blood.    So  burns  the  wrath 
Of  the  Rutulian  as  he  looks  on  camp 
And  wall :  his  very  marrow  thrills  with  rage, 
How  shall  he  force  a  breach,  or  how  dislodge 
The  covered  Trojans  from  their  hold,  and  drive 
Them  to  the  plain  ?    Close  to  the  camp,  the  fleet, 


276 


THE  ^NEID. 


Defended  by  a  trench  and  by  the  stream, 

Lay  hid.    This  he  attacks  :  he  bids  his  men,  90 

Glad  at  the  duty,  fire  it,  and  himself 

Grasps  eagerly  a  blazing  torch.    To  work 

They  spring  :  by  Turnus'  presence  spurred,  each  youth 

Girts  him  with  lurid  fire.    They  strip  the  hearths ; 

Wide  flings  the  pitchy  brand  its  flame  and  smoke,  9S 

Upstreaming  to  the  stars  the  blaze  and  sparks. 

Tell  me,  ye  Muses,  who  the  god  that  saved 
The  Trojans  from  so  fierce  a  blaze  ?  Who  snatched 
Their  fleet  from  fire  so  fell  ?  Traditional 
The  tale,  and  yet  eternal  is  its  fame. 

As  early  as  on  Phrygian  Ida's  slope 
^neas  launched  his  fleet,  and  ready  made 
To  go  to  sea,  'tis  said  that  Cybele, 
The  Berecynthian  mother  of  the  gods. 
Spake  mighty  Jove  these  words :  "  Grant,  son,  the 
prayer 

Thy  loving  mother  lifts  to  thee,  who  hast 

Subdued  Olympus.    Many  years  there  grew 

A  wood  of  pines  I  loved.    They  made  a  grove 

Upon  the  mountain-top,  thick  with  the  shade 

Of  maple  and  the  dark  green  pitch-pine  boughs.  "° 

These  have  I  gladly  given  the  Trojan  chief. 

Who  needs  them  for  his  boats,  and  yet  I  feel 

In  my  solicitude  a  nervous  dread. 

Rid  me  my  fear,  and  let  a  mother's  prayers 

Avail  so  far,  that  they  from  off  their  course  "5 

May  never  more  be  driven,  nor  wrecked  by  storms. 

In  good  stead  let  it  stand  them  that  they  grew 

On  mountain-top  of  mine.'*    Answered  her  son, 


BOOK  IX. 


277 


Who  rolls  the  starry  firmament  of  heaven  ; 

"  O  mother,  whither  would'st  thou  warp  the  fates  ?  "° 

Or  what  is  it  thou  seek'st  for  such  as  these  ? 

Shall  keels  that  mortal  hand  hath  laid  enjoy 

The  sacredness  of  immortality ! 

Mid  risks  that  seem  to  peril  all,  yet  sure 

Unto  his  destiny  ^neas  goes. 

Nay  now,  their  voyage  at  end,  when  they  have  made 
The  Italian  ports,  from  such  as  shall  have  then 
Escaped  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and  brought 
The  Trojan  chief  to  the  Laurentian  land,  — 
From  them  their  mortal  shape  will  I  release,  ^30 
And  bid  them  nymphs  of  mighty  ocean  be. 
Cutting  the  waves  that  curl  before  their  breasts, 
Like  Nereid  Doto,  or  like  Galatea." 
By  Styx,  his  brother's  flood,  and  by  its  banks 
With  pitch   and  yawning  whirlpools  washed,  he 
swore,  135 
And  vast  Olympus  trembled  at  his  nod. 

And  now  has  come  that  fated  hour :  the  Fates 
Have  spun  the  full  allotted  time.    The  threat 
Of  Turnus  warns  the  mother  of  the  gods 
To  avert  the  firebrand  from  her  sacred  rafts.  ^40 
Bursts  then  a  new  light  on  the  lookers'  eyes  : 
The  mighty  cloud  of  the  Idaean  choir 
Rushes  athwart  the  heavens  from  east  to  west ; 
An  awful  voice  falls  through  the  air,  and  thrills 
The  Trojan  and  Rutulian  ranks  alike.  ms 
"  Charge  not,  ye  Trojans,  to  defend  my  fleet, 
Nor  rush  to  arms.    Sooner  shall  Turnus  burn 
The  sea,  than  these  my  hallowed  pines.    Go  ye, 


378 


THE  yENEID. 


Go  free,  ye  ocean  nymphs !    Your  mother  bids." 
At  once  each  prow  breaks  from  the  chain  that  binds  ^5° 
It  to  the  shore,  and  like  a  dolphin  leaps 
Bow-foremost  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
Thence,  sight  miraculous !  rise  up  again, 
Rocked  by  the  waves,  as  many  a  girlish  face 
As  were  the  brazen  beaks  that  lay  but  now  'ss 
At  anchor  off  the  shore.    The  Rutuli 
Look  on  aghast :  Messapus  e'en  is  awed, 
His  steeds  affrighted,  while  the  river  groans 
And  chokes,  and  Tiber  from  the  sea  recoils. 
Fails  not  bold  Turnus'  courage ;  all  the  more 
He  finds  him  words  to  rouse  their  spirits  up. 
And  rally  them  :    It  is  the  Trojans  whom 
These  omens  threat.    E'en  Jove  has  stripped  from 
them 

His  wonted  aid ;  no  need  was  there  of  axe 
Or  torch  of  ours.    Henceforth  the  sea  is  shut 
Against  the  Trojans :  hope  of  flight  is  gone. 
And  half  their  force  cut  off ;  the  land  is  ours ; 
And  the  Italian  tribes  are  bringing  us 
Thousands  of  troops.    No  oracles  of  fate. 
On  which  these  Phrygians  harp,  though  straight  from 
heaven,  '7° 
Make  me  afraid.    For  Venus  and  the  fates. 
Enough  that  on  Italia's  fertile  soil 
The  Trojans  have  set  foot.    My  destiny 
'Gainst  theirs  I  set ;  and  mine  it  is  to  put 
To  sword  this  godless  crew  that  kidnap  wives. 
That  insult  stung  not  Atreus'  sons  alone ; 
Nor  for  the  Greeks  alone  the  ordeal  of  war. 


BOOK  IX. 


279 


Enough,  perhaps,  that  once  they  were  consumed. 
Were  they  content  but  once  to  sin,  and  had 
They  scorned,  scarce  one  exempt,  all  women  since. 
They  pluck  their  courage  up,  because  they  trust 
These  barricades  that  lie  'tween  them  and  us. 
This  hindrance  of  a  ditch,  though  but  a  thread 
'Twixt  life  and  death.    Yet  saw  they  not  the  walls 
Of  Troy,  the  work  of  Neptune's  hand,  go  down  ^^s 
In  flames  ?  Picked  soldiers  ye,  who  forward  step 
To  scale  with  me  their  ramparts  and  invade 
Their  frightened  camp,  no  arms  of  Vulcan's  make, 
Nor  fleet  want  I,  to  fight  these  hounds  from  Troy ! 
Let  every  Tuscan  join  their  ranks.    Nor  need  ^9° 
They  fear,  under  the  cover  of  the  dark, 
The  sneaking  theft  of  their  Palladium  now. 
In  the  false  belly  of  no  horse  we  hide. 
But  in  the  light  of  day  we  fire  their  walls. 
So  will  I  bear  me,  they  shall  find  they  fight  ^9S 
Not  with  the  Greeks,  nor  the  Pelasgic  spawn, 
Whom  Hector  baffled  ten  long  years.    And  now, 
The  day  far  spent,  for  what  remains  take  heart, 
My  men,  that  all  hath  gone  so  well ;  eat,  drink, 
And  sleep,  and  on  your  arms  await  the  fight."  200 

Meantime  Messapus'  duty  'tis  to  set 
A  watch  before  the  gates  and  hedge  the  camp 
With  fires.    Fourteen  Rutulian  chiefs  are  picked 
To  guard  the  lines,  each  with  a  hundred  men, 
Brilliant  with  purple  plumes  and  armor  gilt.  ^^s 
They  march  from  post  to  post  and  take  their  turns. 
Stretched  on  the  grass,  they  solace  them  with  wine 
And  drain  the  brazen  cup.    Bright  shine  the  fires : 


28o 


THE  iENEID. 


The  watch  eke  out  the  wakeful  night  in  play. 
Guarding  their  rampart-tops,  the  Trojans  look 
From  their  defences  down  upon  the  scene. 
Made  anxious  by  their  fears,  they  try  each  gate  ; 
From  fort  to  fort  they  bridge,  and  missiles  heap. 
Mnestheus  and  brave  Sergestus  take  the  lead, 
Whom,  should  the  crisis  call,  ^neas  chose  215 
For  captains  and  directors  of  affairs. 
Each  man  assigned  his  post  along  the  lines, 
The  whole  camp  on  the  alert  against  attack, 
Each  guards  in  turn  whate'er  each  has  to  guard. 

At  one  gate  Nisus,  son  of  Hyrtacus —  "o 
One  of  the  boldest  soldiers  in  the  ranks  — 
Stood  sentinel.    Deft  with  the  javelin  he 
And  slender  shaft,  him  had  his  mother  sent, 
Herself  a  huntress  on  Mount  Ida's  slopes, 
To  bear  ^neas  company.    With  him  «s 
Euryalus  his  comrade  shared  the  watch  — 
No  nobler  figure  in  Eneas'  train 
Or  clad  in  Trojan  armor,  though  the  down 
Of  youth  just  tinged  his  boyish  unshorn  cheek. 
Their  hearts  were  one  :  in  battle  side  by  side  230 
They  charged  ;  and  now  together  at  the  gate 
They  stand  on  guard.    'Tis  Nisus  speaks  :  "  Is  it 
The  gods,  Euryalus,  that  in  our  souls 
Ambition  prick ;  or  is  his  chiefest  wish 
To  each  his  god  }    My  heart  doth  burn  to  fight  ^35 
Or  some  great  risk  to  dare,  and  chafes  at  this 
Unruffled  quietude.    Thou  see'st  the  trust 
Of  these  Rutulians  :  now  their  fires  burn  low  : 
In  wine  and  slumber  laxed,  they  lie  aground, 


BOOK  IX. 


281 


And  all  is  silent  far  and  near.    List  quick  240 
What  'tis  I  plan,  the  thought  that  frets  my  soul ! 
The  common  folk  and  the  grey  beards  all  long 
To  call  ^neas  back  and  send  out  scouts 
To  make  exact  report  of  what  is  up. 
If  they  will  but  assure  thee  what  I  ask, 
Enough  for  me  the  glory  of  the  exploit. 
Beneath  yon  hill  it  seems  me  I  can  trace 
My  way  to  Pallanteum's  walls  and  town." 
Struck  at  such  thrist  for  praise,  Euryalus 
Starts  back,   and  thus  his  hot-brained  friend  he 
chides.  250 
"  Nisus,  dost  thou  refuse  at  such  a  pinch 
To  make  me  thy  companion  ?    Or  would  I 
Let  thee  into  such  perils  go  alone  ? 
Not  so  my  war-trained  sire  Opheltes  taught. 
Bred  as  I  was  'twixt  terror  of  the  Greek  255 
And  risks  for  Troy.    Not  so  have  I  with  thee 
Thy  dangers  shared,  while  brave  Eneas'  fate 
And  toughest  rubs  of  fortune  following  still. 
The  soul  that  stirs  within  this  breast  of  mine 
Holds  life  so  cheap,  that  it  were  poor  exchange  260 
For  honor  such  as  thou  resolv'st  to  win." 

But  Nisus  said :    "  Indeed  I  did  not  count 
On  this  from  thee,  nor  is  it  right  I  should. 
To  thee  I  looked  for  happy  welcome  back. 
Should  mighty  Jove,  or  whate'er  god  may  smile  265 
Upon  this  dash  of  mine,  grant  me  return  : 
But  if  amid  the  perils,  —  and  thou  see'st 
How  many  wait  on  such  a  risk,  —  should  god 
Or  chance  go  hard  with  me,  I  meant  that  thou 


282 


THE  ^NEID. 


Should'st  live,  too  young  to  throw  thy  life  away : 

Then,  were  my  body  from  the  field  borne  off 

Or  ransomed  for  a  price,  there  would  be  left 

One  friend  to  bury  it  beneath  the  sod, 

Or,  if  that  fortune  were  denied,  at  least 

To  pay  death's  honors  to  my  absent  corpse  27s 

And  decorate  a  grave  for  me.  ,  Besides, 

I  would  not  be  the  cause  of  grief  so  keen 

To  thy  unhappy  mother,  who,  alone 

Out  of  so  many  aged  women,  boy, 

Dared  go  through  all  with  thee,  indifferent  e'en  ^So 

To  great  Acestes'  sheltering  walls."    But  still 

The  youth  replied  :  "  It  is  not  worth  thy  while 

To  link  this  futile  chain  of  argument. 

Unmoved,  my  resolution  falters  not. 

Quick  let  us  go  !  "  he  cries,  and  wakes  the  guards,  ^Ss 

Who  come  and  take  their  turn.     Leaving  the  post, 

Nisus  and  he  go  twain  to  seek  the  prince. 

All  the  world  else  in  slumber  loosed  its  cares. 
And  the  tired  heart  forgot  its  weariness, 
Save  that  the  Trojan  chiefs,  the  chosen  men,  290 
Held  council  on  the  crisis  of  the  state  — 
What  should  be  done,  who  to  ^neas  be 
Their  messenger.    Leaning  on  their  tall  spears, 
There  in  the  centre  of  the  camp  and  plain 
With  shield  on  arm  they  stand.    'Tis  just  at  this  ^95 
That  Nisus  and  Euryalus  implore 
Audience  at  once  —  matter  of  great  import 
They  claim,  and  well  worth  all  the  time  they  ask. 
At  once  Ascanius  lets  them  in  all  hot 
For  their  adventure,  and  bids  Nisus  speak ;  300 


BOOK  IX. 


Whereat  the  son  of  Hyrtacus  breaks  out : 
"  Give  us  fair  hearing,  Trojans,  nor  despise 
Our  project  for  our  youth.    Unstrung  with  wine 
And  slumber,  the  Rutulians  lie  aground. 
With  our  own  eyes  have  we  marked  out  the  course  s^s 
For  our  manoeuvre,  taking  at  the  forks 
The  road  that  skirts  the  sea.    The  foe's  camp-lires 
Are  going  out,  and  with  the  rising  smoke 
The  stars  are  dimmed.    If  ye  but  let  us  try 
Our  luck  to  find  ^neas  and  the  town  310 
Of  Pallanteum,  him  shall  ye  soon  see 
Return,  laden  with  spoils,  his  way  a  wide 
And  bloody  swath.    Nor  shall  the  path  mislead 
Our  steps.    Oft  in  the  hunt  have  we  caught  sight, 
Aglint  through  valley  copses,  of  the  town  31s 
And  learned  each  winding  of  the  stream."    At  this, 
Aletes,  old  in  years,  in  wisdom  ripe, 
Exclaims:   "Gods  of  our   country,  'neath  whose 
watch 

Troy  ever  is,  not  yet  do  ye  permit 
Her  sons  to  perish  utterly,  so  long  320 
As  in  the  bosom  of  her  youth  ye  breathe 
Such  souls  as  these,  and  hearts  thus  resolute  !  " 
So  spake,  and  hand  and  shoulder  caught  them 
both. 

While  tears  ran  ploughing  down  his  face  and  cheeks. 
"  Heroes,  what  honors  can  I  think  enough  32s 
To  pay  you  for  such  bravery  ?  'Tis  the  gods 
And  your  own  consciences  will  be  your  first 
And  best  reward  ;  ^neas  in  due  time, 
And,  when  to  manhood  come,  Ascanius  too 


284 


THE  iENEID. 


Never  forgetful  of  desert  so  great,  330 

Shall  render  you  the  rest."    "  Yes,  Nisus,  I," 

Ascanius  cried,  "  who  am  all  lost,  if  back 

Come  not  my  sire,  by  our  great  natal  gods, 

By  our  ancestral  Lar,  and  by  the  shrines 

Of  the  pure  Vesta  swear,  whate'er  my  fate,  335 

Whate'er  my  hopes,  into  your  hands  I  trust 

Them  all.    Call  ye  my  father  back  !  Restore 

His  face ;  and  he  once  home,  I  have  no  fear. 

Two  silver  cups,  embossed  and  richly  wrought,  — 

My  father  took  them  when  Arisba  fell,  —  340 

Two  tripods,  and  two  talents  great  of  gold. 

Nay,  Dido's  gift  to  me, — the  antique  bowl 

Sidonian  Dido  gave,  —  will  I  give  you. 

And  should  be  ever  mine  the  victor's  lot 

To  conquer  Italy,  its  sceptre  grasp,  345 

And  parcel  out  the  spoils  —  thou  saw'st  the  steed 

That  Turnus  rode,  the  golden  arms  he  wore  — 

That  very  steed,  his  shield,  his  crimson  plumes, 

I'll  from  the  dice  reserve —  nay,  from  this  hour 

Regard  them,  Nisus,  as  thine  own  reward.  350 

My  sire  shall  give  thee  more,  —  twelve  women  picked 

For  beauty  of  their  shapes,  twelve  captive  males 

With  all  their  outfit  too,  and,  added  them, 

As  big  a  patch  of  land  for  thine  as  king 

Latinus'  own.    Ah !  as  for  thee,  dear  boy,  35s 

Whose  age  runs  nearer  mine,  with  all  my  heart 

I  welcome  thee  my  bosom  friend  in  all 

My  fortunes  hence ;  and  whether  war  or  peace 

I  prosecute,  in  counsel  or  in  act, 

My  utmost  confidence  shall  rest  in  thee."  360 


BOOK  IX. 


To  him  thus  answers  back  Euryalus : 

"Come  fortune  good  or  bad,  this  all  my  boast: — 

No  hour,  when  duty  thus  on  courage  calls, 

Shall  find  me  recreant.    But  one  gift  I  ask, 

Yet  more  to  me  than  all  gifts  else.    I  have  365 

A  mother  who,  of  Priam's  ancient  stock, 

Fared  forth  with  me  ;  nor  Ilium's  shore,  alas  ! 

Nor  king  Acestes'  walls  could  keep  her  back. 

Whate'er  the  hazard  that  I  undergo, 

I  leave  her  ignorant  o't,  not  one  last  kiss  370 

Upon  her  cheek.    By  thy  right  hand,  by  Night 

I  swear,  I  could  not  bear  a  mother's  tears. 

Do  thou,  I  beg,  relieve  her  want,  and  cheer 

Her  loneliness ;  this  let  me  hope  of  thee. 

And  through  all  dangers  I  shall  bolder  go."  37s 

Touched  to  the  heart,  the  Trojans  weep,  but  fair 

lulus  more  than  all,  entranced  at  such 

A  counterfeit  of  his  own  filial  love ; 

And  thus  he  cries  :  "  I  pledge  thee  everything 

Thy  noble  enterprise  deserves.    For  she  380 

Shall  be  my  mother,  lacking  but  the  name 

Creiisa,  and  her  joy  in  such  a  son 

Shall  not  be  small.    Whatever  be  the  fate 

That  waits  thy  venture,  by  this  head  I  swear, 

By  which  my  father  used  to  swear,  that  all  385 

I  promised  thee,  successful  and  returned. 

Shall  to  thy  mother  and  thy  race  descend 

As  well."    Thus  speaking  through  his  tears,  from  off 

His  shoulder  he  unbelts  the  golden  sword, 

That  with  rare  skill  Cretan  Lycaon  made  390 

And  lightly  fitted  with  an  ivory  sheath. 


286 


THE  iENEID. 


To  Nisus  for  a  mantle  Mnestheus  gives 

A  lion's  shaggy  skin ;  and  sturdy  old 

Alethes  makes  exchange  of  helmets.  Forth 

They  go,  armed  to  the  teeth ;  and  all  the  chiefs,  39s 

The  young  and  old,  follow  their  steps  with  prayers, 

While  e'er  the  fair  lulus,  with  a  soul 

And  manly  thoughtfulness  beyond  his  years, 

Sends  message  after  message  to  his  sire. 

Yet  shall  the  winds  but  dissipate  them  all,  400 

And  make  them  idle  playthings  for  the  clouds! 

Once  out  the  camp,  they  overleap  the  ditch. 
And  through  the  shadows  of  the  night  invade 
The  intrenchments  of  the  foe,  forerunners  they 
Of  many  a  soldier's  slaughter.    Here  and  there,  40s 
Scattered  along  the  grass,  they  see  men  drowned 
In  sleep  and  wine  —  the  shore  with  chariots  lined  — 
Wheels,  harness,  drivers,  arms  and  casks,  all  strewn 
Together.    Nisus  is  the  first  to  speak  : 
"  Now  must  the  arm  be  nerved,  Euryalus  :  410 
The  very  opportunity  invites 

Attack.    Here  lies  our  path.    Do  thou  keep  guard. 

Thine  eyes  on  the  alert,  so  that  no  squad 

Attack  our  rear,  while  I  cut  right  and  left, 

And  mow  thee  in  advance  a  good  wide  swath."  415 

This  said,  his  voice  is  hushed,  as  with  his  sword 

He  stabs  the  haughty  Rhamnes,  who,  it  chanced. 

Raised  on  a  couch  of  stuffs,  lay  snoring  there 

With  all  the  bellows  in  his  chest.    A  king 

Was  he  and  prophet,  whom  king  Turnus  held  420 

In  very  high  esteem  ;  yet  ne'er  with  all 

His  prophecy  could  he  ward  off  his  doom. 


BOOK  IX. 


287 


Near  by,  he  kills  three  slaves,  they  and  their  wares 

At  random  lying — the  armor-bearer  next 

Of  Remus  —  then  the  charioteer,  o'er  whom  42s 

He  trips,  lying  beneath  the  horses'  heels : 

The  neck  thrown  back,  he  cleaves  it  with  his  sword ; 

The  head  he  lays  beside  the  master's  own, 

And  leaves  the  trunk  outbubbling  blood,  while  sand 

And  turf  are  puddled  hot  with  crimson  gore  —  430 

Next  Lamyrus,  and  Lamus,  and  the  youth 

Serranus  with  his  handsome  face,  who  late 

That  night  had  played  and  now  lay  all  abroad 

O'ercome  with  too  much  wine  — happy,  had  he 

But  made  his  play  the  equal  of  the  night  435 

And  lengthened  it  till  morning !    So  might  rave 

An  unfed  lion  in  a  pen  of  sheep  : 

To  madness  hunger-driven,  its  mouth  afoam 

With  blood,  it  rends  and  tears  the  cowering  flock. 

That  dare  not  even  bleat  for  fear.    Nor  less  44a 

The  carnage  of  Euryalus  j  he  too 

Flames  furious,  stealing  mid  a  group  too  large 

To  name,  Herbesus,  Fadus,  Abaris, 

And  Rhoetus,  taken  all  at  unawares,  — 

Rhoetus  indeed  on  watch  and  witnessing  445 

The  whole  attack,  but  panic-struck  and  hid 

Behind  a  monstrous  tub.    Up  to  the  hilt 

Against  his  breast,  as  he  uprises,  straight 

Euryalus  drives  home  his  sword,  then  draws 

It  forth  again,  death  following  instantly.  450 

Out  with  it  gush  the  purple  streams  of  life 

And  a  mixed  drool  of  wine  and  blood.    At  this, 

Hot  with  the  exploit,  Euryalus  darts  on, 


288 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  now  wends  towards  Messapus'  quarters,  where 

He  sees  the  farthest  camp-fire  dying  out,  45s 

And  the  tied  horses  cropping  at  the  grass ; 

But  Nisus  speaks  him  short — for  he  perceives 

Too  far  the  lust  of  blood  is  carrying  them  — 

"Let  us  hold  off,"  he  cries,  "for,  near  at  hand, 

The  unfriendly  dawn !  Vengeance  hath  had  enough.  460 

Already  through  the  foe  our  way  is  cut." 

They  leave  behind  them  heaps  of  soldiers'  traps, 

Wrought  solid  silver,  armor,  drinking  cups, 

And  handsome  carpetings.    The  trappings  worn 

By  Rhamnes,  and  his  belt  embossed  with  gold  —  465 

Presents  were  these  that  rich  old  Caedicus 

Once  sent  to  Remulus  of  Tibur,  when. 

Though  far  away,  he  linked  him  as  a  guest — 

Died  Remulus  and  gave  his  grandson  them  : 

After  the  grandson's  death,  who  bit  the  dust  470 

In  battle  warring  with  the  Rutuli, 

They  were  the  Rutuli's  —  Euryalus 

Now  snatches  them,  and  fits  them  recklessly 

Around  his  neck,  and  then  alas,  so  rash ! 

Puts  on  Messapus'  plumed  and  graceful  casque.  475 

They  leave  the  camp  and  make  for  safer  paths. 

A  troop  of  cavalry,  their  shields  abreast, 
Three  hundred  strong,  and  Volscens  at  their  head, 
Meantime  advancing  from  the  capital 
Of  Latium,  —  while  the  rest  of  the  recruits  480 
Still  lingered  in  their  lines  upon  the  field,  — 
Rode  on  to  bring  king  Turnus  messages. 
Already  close  upon  his  camp  they  came, 
Just  entering  on  his  works,  when,  yet  afar 


BOOK  IX. 


289 


Skirting  along  the  left-hand  path,  they  saw  485 
The  fugitives.    The  casque  Euryalus 
Wore  thoughtlessly,  flashed  back  and  through  the  dim 
Half-lighted  night  betrayed  him.    Not  for  naught 
They  saw  him.    Volscens  from  the  column  shouts : 
"Stand,  men!    Why  pass  ye  here?   Why  are  ye 
armed  ?  490 
And  whither  do  ye  go  ? "    They  answer  not 
A  word,  but  hurry  to  the  woods,  and  trust 
The  night  to  shelter  them,  while  here  and  there 
The  riders  spur  to  each  known  avenue, 
And  every  outlet  guard  with  sentinels.  49s 

The  wood  was  rough  throughout  with  underbrush 
And  scrubby  oaks,  at  each  turn  full  of  thorns. 
The  path  gleamed  through  the  matted  undergrowth 
Only  at  intervals :  the  trees'  thick  gloom. 
The  very  burden  of  his  spoils  perplexed  500 
Euryalus,  and  in  the  entanglement 
He  lost  the  way.    Not  fearing  for  his  friend, 
Nisus  was  off,  and  had  already  'scaped 
The  foe  and  gained  the  groves,  called  Alban  since 
For  Alba's  name  —  then  king  Latinus  had  505 
His  spacious  stables  there  —  and  there  he  stood 
And  looked  back  vainly  for  his  absent  friend. 
"  Where  have  I  left  thee,  poor  Euryalus  ! 
Or  how  can  I  go  after  thee,  or  trace 
Again  the  treacherous  woods'  long  tangled  way!"  sio 
At  once  he  picks  his  footprints  back  and  strays 
Mid  the  still  underwood.    The  horses'  tramp, 
The  calls  and  shouting  of  pursuit  he  hears, 
Until,  himself  in  the  melee,  one  cry 

19 


290 


THE  ^NEID. 


Rings  in  his  ears,  and  there  Euryalus  s^s 
He  sees,  whom  wildered  by  the  place  and  night 
And  by  the  sudden  onset  of  the  foe. 
Yet  struggling  hopelessly,  they  all  beset 
At  every  point.    And  what  can  Nisus  do  ? 
What  strength,  what  arms  hath  he  that  he  shall  dare  52° 
The  rescue  of  Euryalus  ?  Shall  he 
Plunge  headlong  through  the  circle  of  their  swords. 
Death  staring  in  his  face,  and  nobly  die 
Cut  through  and  through  ?    Sooner  than  thought,  his 
arm 

Drawn  back,  he  brandishes  his  spear,  his  face  525 

Uplifted  to  the  moon,  and  prays  her  thus  : 

"  Goddess,  thou  glory  of  the  starry  skies, 

Diana,  guardian  of  the  woods,  be  kind. 

And  succor  us  in  our  extremity  ! 

If  e'er  my  father  Hyrtacus  for  me  S3o 

Did  any  gift  upon  thine  altar  lay ; 

If  from  the  chase  I  e'er  have  added  mine. 

Or  any  to  thy  sacred  walls  affixed 

Or  from  thy  ceilings  hung,  guide  through  the  air 

My  shaft,  and  let  me  put  this  swarm  to  flight."  sss 

This  said,  with  all  his  body  in  the  cast. 
He  hurled  his  spear.    Cleaving  the  twilight  shades 
It  sped,  and  —  Sulmo  standing  in  its  path  — 
Crashed  through  his  ribs,  where  broke  the  splintered 
wood, 

Deep  in  his  vitals  thrust.    A  heap  he  rolls,  540 
The  hot  blood  pulsing  from  his  breast,  till  cold 
He  lies,  and  pants  with  long-drawn  gasps  for  breath. 
His  clustering  comrades  gaze  on  him,  when,  lo  ! 


BOOK  IX. 


291 


E'en  swifter  than  before,  another  lance 
Doth  Nisus  poise  above  his  ear,  and  while  545 
They  in  confusion  stand,  the  hissing  steel 
Both  Tagus'  temples  nails,  and  hangs,  and  smokes 
With  his  out-oozing  brain.    Grim  Volscens  raves. 
Yet  nowhere  sees  the  author  of  the  shot. 
Nor  can  he  tell  on  whom  to  vent  his  wrath.  sso 
"  Then  shalt  thou  pay  me  penalty  for  both, 
Ere  yet  thy  blood  hath  time  to  cool,"  he  roars ; 
And  as  he  speaks,  his  sword  he  draws,  and  flies 
Upon  Euryalus.    At  this  heart-rent 
And  panic-stricken,  Nisus  shouts,  nor  can  sss 
He  longer  keep  his  hiding  place  or  bear 
So  sad  a  sight:  "On  me,  on  me  —  'twas  I 
That  did  the  deed  —  on  me  thy  weapon  turn, 
O  thou  Rutulian  !    Mine  the  mischief  all ! 
He  nothing  dared  or  had  the  power  to  do,  s6o 
By  heaven  I  swear  it,  and  the  conscious  stars  : 
He  only  loved  too  well  his  hapless  friend." 
But  even  while  he  spake,  the  sword,  forced  home. 
Sped  through  the  ribs  and  gashed  the  fair  white  breast. 
Euryalus  falls  dead,  blood  streaming  down  s^s 
His  graceful  figure,  and  his  limp  neck  sunk 
Upon  his  shoulder.    So  by  ploughshare  cut. 
Some  bright  flower  fades  and  dies  ;  so,  when  the 
rain 

Beats  hard,  the  poppy  from  its  broken  stalk 
Droops  hanging  down  its  head.  Then  Nisus  leaps  $70 
Into  their  midst ;  he  singles  Volscens  out 
From  all  the  rest  —  at  none  but  Volscens  aims, 
Surrounding  whom  the  foe  at  every  point, 


292 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  hand  to  hand,  ward  Nisus  off.    He  fights 

The  harder  for't,  his  sword  all  round  his  head  575 

Like  lightning  flashing,  till  he  plunges  it 

Into  the  bellowing  Rutulian's  mouth, 

And  takes  with  dying  hand  the  tyrant's  life. 

Then  gashed  from  head  to  foot,  he  throws  himself 

Upon  the  lifeless  body  of  his  friend,  sSo 

And  there  in  death  rests  peacefully  at  last. 

Happy  ye  both  !  if  aught  my  song  can  do, 
Time  ne'er  shall  blot  you  from  the  memory 
Long  as  Eneas'  line  shall  have  its  home 
Upon  the  Capitol's  eternal  rock,  585 
Or  Rome  shall  be  the  mistress  of  the  world. 

The  Rutuli,  victorious,  yet  in  tears. 
Their  spoils  and  booty  gathered,  bear  their  dead 
Commander  Volscens  onward  to  the  camp. 
Nor  less  the  sorrow  there  —  Rhamnes  found  dead,  590 
So  many  chiefs  at  one  fell  swoop  cut  off, 
Serranus,  Numa,  and  the  rest.    A  crowd 
Surrounds  the  corses  and  the  half-dead  men, 
The  place  still  fresh  with  recent  massacre. 
And  blood-rills  trickling  still.    Then  one  by  one  595 
They  recognize  the  spoils  the  Volscians  bring,  — 
Messapus'  shining  helmet,  and,  regained 
At  such  a  sweat,  the  trappings  of  their  own. 

By  this,  up  from  Tithonus'  saffron  bed, 
Dawn  rose  and  with  the  new  day  streaked  the  earth,  ^oo 
Soon  as  the  sun  pours  down  and  all  is  light, 
Girds  Turnus  his  own  armor  on  once  more. 
And  calls  his  men  to  arms.    The  glittering  ranks 
He  forms  in  battle-line,  each  soldier  there 


BOOK  IX. 


293 


To  vengeance  fired  with  rumors  manifold,  ^"^s 

Nay,  sorry  sight !  on  their  uplifted  spears 

They  fix,  and  follow  with  loud  jeers,  the  heads 

Of  Nisus  and  Euryalus.  Meantime 

The  sturdy  Trojans  face  the  foe,  their  right 

Protected  by  the  river,  and  their  left 

By  their  defences.    Heavily  entrenched, 

They  hold  their  own :  but  sad  are  they  who  stand 

Upon  the  ramp  art- top,  as  to  and  fro, 

Spiked  and  adrip  with  heavy  clots  of  blood. 

The  faces  of  their  comrades  move  before  ^^s 

The  eyes  that  all  too  sadly  call  them  back. 

Meantime  winged  Rumor  through  the  frightened  camp, 

Swift  messenger,  doth  flit,  and  at  the  ear 

Of  her  the  mother  of  Euryalus 

Alights.    The  color  from  her  wretched  cheeks  ^^o 
Flies  instantly.    The  shuttle  from  her  hands 
Falls  down  ;  her  web  unravels  ;  rent  with  grief. 
She  tears  her  hair,  and  with  a  woman's  shriek 
Runs  madly  to  the  walls  and  battle's  edge. 
Heedless  of  danger,  though  the  missiles  rain 
Alike  from  Trojan  friend  and  Latin  foe  : 
She  fills  the  air  with  wailings  :  "  Is  it  thou 
I  see,  Euryalus  ?    Of  my  old  age 
The  one  last  refuge,  could'st  so  cruelly 
Leave  me  alone  ?    On  such  a  peril  bent, 
Could  not  thy  wretched  mother  speak  to  thee 
Her  parting  word  ?    Alas  !  in  a  strange  land, 
Food  to  the  Latin  dogs  and  vultures  thrown, 
Thou  liest !    Nor  did  I,  thy  mother,  lay 
Thy  body  for  the  grave,  nor  close  thine  eyes, 


294 


THE  ^NEID. 


Nor  wash  thy  wounds,  concealing  them  beneath 

The  robe  I  hasted  day  and  night  to  weave  — 

Lighting  a  mother's  sorrows  with  the  loom. 

How  shall  I  go  to  find  thee,  or  the  spot 

Where  lie  thy  shoulders,  thy  dissevered  limbs, 

Thy  outraged  corse  ?    Is  this  the  sheaf,  my  son, 

Thou  bring'st  me  back?  —  Have  I  o'er  land  and  sea 

Followed  but  this  ?    O  ye  Rutulians,  me 

If  ye  have  any  pity,  kill  —  at  me  take  aim 

With  all  your  shafts  :  me  first  put  to  the  sword  !  ^4S 

Or  thou,  O  thou  great  Father  of  the  gods. 

Be  merciful,  and  with  thy  thunderbolt 

Strike  my  despised  head  to  Tartarus, 

Since  else  I  cannot  snap  life's  cruel  thread ! " 

Her  tears  touch  every  heart :  and  from  them  all  ^5° 

A  groan  of  sorrow  bursts  ;  their  spirits  break ; 

They  have  no  stomach  for  the  fight.    At  last. 

She  shrieking  still  her  griefs,  Ilioneus,  — 

lulus  too,  though  through  his  sobs,  —  commands 

Idaeus  lift  her  up,  with  Actor's  help,  ^ss 

And  in  their  arms  restore  her  to  her  home. 

Then  from  the  ringing  brass  the  trumpet  sounds 
Its  wild  alarm.    Follows  the  battle-cry ; 
And  heaven  re-echoes  it.    'Neath  their  lapped  shields 
The  Volscians  steadily  advance,  prepared 
To  fill  the  trenches,  and  the  ramparts  storm. 
Some  seek  to  steal  an  entrance,  or  to  scale 
The  walls  where  the  defence  is  weak,  or  where 
The  line  seems  broken  for  the  lack  of  men. 
Full  in  their  face  the  Trojans  rain  in  showers — 
Trained  in  their  own  long  war  to  stand  a  siege  — 


BOOK  IX. 


295 


All  sorts  of  missiles,  and  with  hard-wood  poles 

Beat  the  assailants  off.    They  roll  down  stones 

Of  cruel  weight  to  break,  if  possible, 

The  roof  of  bucklers  that  protects  the  foe  ^7° 

Who  'neath  their  shields  but  laugh  at  every  shock ; 

Yet  waver  soon,  for,  where  they  densest  rush, 

The  Trojans  loose  a  ponderous  rocky  mass. 

And  hurl  it  down.    It  scatters  right  and  left 

The  Rutuli  and  breaks  their  armor-screen  ^75 

In  fragments.    Doughty  as  they  are,  no  heart 

Have  they  for  fighting  longer  in  the  dark, 

But  run  to  cover  from  the  missile-rain. 

Elsewhere  Mezentius  —  terror  to  the  sight  — 

The  Tuscan  pitch-pine  brandishes,  and  plies 

The  smoking  torch,  the  while  Messapus,  son 

Of  Neptune,  and  a  tamer  of  the  horse. 

The  rampart  storms,  and  shouts  to  scale  the  walls. 

Ye  Muses,  thou  Calliope,  I  pray, 
Inspire  me  sing  the  carnage  and  the  heaps  ^^s 
Of  dead,  that  Turnus  with  his  sword  then  wrought ! 
How  each  chief  struck  some  soul  to  hell !    Roll  out 
With  me  the  mighty  scroll  of  war,  for  ye 
Remember,  Muses,  and  can  tell  the  tale  1 

A  far-outlooking  tower,  staged  high  about,  ^° 
Stood  in  the  way.    On  this  with  all  their  force 
The  whole  Italian  army  charged,  and  sought 
To  raze  it  to  the  ground  with  every  means 
At  their  command.    The  Trojans  meet  the  assault 
With  stones,  and  through  the  open  casements  rain  ^95 
A  shower  of  missiles.    Turnus  at  the  front 
Flings  up  a  burning  torch,  and  the  flame  clings 


296 


THE  iENEID. 


Against  the  turret's  side.    Swoln  by  the  wind, 

It  grips  the  scantling,  and  sticks  fast  the  more 

The  timbers  burn.  The  inmates,  panic-struck,  700 

Into  confusion  fall  and  vainly  seek 

Escape  from  danger.    For,  while  crowding  close, 

Retreating  to  that  side  still  free  from  fire, 

The  turret  suddenly  beneath  their  weight 

Goes  down,  all  heaven  thundering  with  the  crash ;  705 

Together  with  the  ponderous  pile,  run  through 

And  to  each  other  linked  by  their  own  spears, 

Or  on  the  splintering  sticks  impaled  half-dead. 

They  all  come  tumbling  to  the  ground.    None  'scape 

Save  Lycus  and  Helenor  —  barely  they:  710 

Of  whom  Helenor  in  the  bud  of  youth, 

(A  slave,  Lycimnia,  unto  him  gave  birth  — 

The  stealthy  getting  of  a  Lydian  king  — 

And  sent  him  in  forbidden  arms  to  Troy) 

Is  armed  but  with  a  sword  and  a  white  shield  71s 

Unhonored  yet  with  a  device,  yet  finds 

Himself  the  target  of  ten  thousand  men 

Mid  Turnus'  hosts,  while  round  him  right  and  left 

The  Latin  battle-ranks  press  up.    'Tis  like 

Some  wild  beast,  when  the  hunters  hedge  it  in,  720 

That  at  their  weapons  glares — prescient  of  death, 

Yet  courting  it  —  and  dashes  with  a  bound 

Upon  their  spears.    So,  sure  to  die,  the  youth 

Charges  the  centre  of  the  host, and  where 

He  sees  the  blades  are  thickest,  there  he  aims ;  7»s 

But  Lycus,  swifter-footed  far,  through  foe. 

Through  steel,  runs  till  he  gains  the  wall,  and  writhes 

To  reach  the  top  or  clasp  his  comrades'  hands. 


BOOK  IX. 


297 


Turnus  with  foot  and  spear  alike  pursues, 

And  rails  exulting  at  him  thus  :  "  Thou  fool,  730 

Didst  hope  that  from  my  hand  thou  could'st  escape  ?  " 

Sooner  than  said  he  grips  him  hanging  there, 

And  with  him  wrenches  half  the  wall  away. 

So,  soaring  to  the  skies,  the  eagle  lifts, 

Caught  in  its  claws,  a  hare  or  snowy  swan  :  7?5 

So  from  the  fold  steals  robber  wolf  a  lamb. 

The  mother  bleating  for  it  piteously. 

Up  goes  a  shout  from  every  throat.    The  foe 

Rush  in  ;  while  some  with  earth  the  ditches  fill, 

Others  fling  blazing  torches  on  the  roofs.  740 

Then  with  a  rock,  big  as  a  mountain  crag, 
Ilioneus  doth  lay  Lucretius  low 
Just  entering  through  the  gate  and  scattering  fire. 
Liger  Emathion  kills ;  Asylas  next 
Kills  Chorinaeus  ;  one  apt  with  the  spear,  745 
The  other  with  the  far  swift  stealthy  shaft. 
Caeneus  Ortygius  slays,  and  Turnus  slays 
The  victor  Caeneus :  Turnus  Itys  too 
And  Clonius,  Dioxippus,  Promulus, 
And  Sagaris,  and  Idas  standing  on  75© 
The  rampart-top.    Capys  Privernus  kills : 
Themilla's  spear  had  lightly  wounded  him 
Already,  and  as  now  he  rashly  drops 
His  shield  to  touch  the  cut,  the  wingbd  shaft 
Shoots  in,  nailing  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  7SS 
And,  penetrating  thence  yet  farther  in. 
Cuts  short  with  mortal  wound  the  breath  of  life. 

The  son  of  Arcens  in  brave  armor  stood : 
Brilliant  was  his  embroidered  cloak,  and  bright 


298 


THE  ^NEID. 


His  Spanish  colorings,  and  fine  his  face.  760 

His  father  Arcens  sent  him  to  the  war, 

Trained  in  his  mother's  groves  that  cluster  round 

Symaethus'  streams,  where  the  Palici  have 

Their  opulent  and  hospitable  shrine. 

Then  laid  Mezentius  down  his  arms  ;  thrice  round  76s 

His  head  the  whizzing  sling  at  its  full  swing 

He  whirled,  and  with  its  molten  ball  of  lead 

Split  half  and  half  the  forehead  of  the  youth. 

And  stretched  him  all  abroad  upon  the  sand. 

Then  shot  Ascanius,  it  is  said,  his  first  770 
Swift  battle  shaft  —  before  but  wont  to  fight 
Some  hunted  beast  —  and  with  his  own  hand  slew 
Numanus  bold  —  his  surname  Remulus  — 
Who  Turnus'  younger  sister  just  had  wed. 
Before  the  foremost  line  with  loud-mouthed  boasts,  77s 
Worth  and  unworth  repeating,  up  and  down 
He  strutted,  puffed  with  his  new  royalty, 
And  shouted  as  he  stalked  :    "  Have  ye  no  shame, 
Twice  captured  Phrygians,  that  a  second  siege 
Within  the  shelter  of  your  works  ye  stand,  780 
And  hide  from  death  behind  protecting  walls  ? 
Lo !  these  are  they  who  cry,  Your  wives  or  war  ! 
What  god,  nay,  what  insanity  drove  you 
To  Italy  ?    The  Atridae  are  not  here  ; 
Nor  that  glib  liar  Ulysses.    Root  and  branch,  785 
We  are  a  hardy  race.    As  soon  as  born. 
Our  sons  we  carry  to  the  streams,  and  make 
Them  tough  with  baths  though  through  the  cruel  ice  ; 
Our  boys  burn  for  the  chase  j  they  scour  the  woods ; 
It  is  but  sport  for  them  to  rein  the  steed,  790 


BOOK  IX. 


299 


And  wing  the  whizzing  arrow  from  the  bow. 

Our  youth,  inured  to  toil,  trained  to  scant  fare. 

Alike  till  farm  or  city  sack.    The  sword 

Is  always  in  our  hands.    We  even  goad 

Our  oxen  with  the  butt-end  of  a  spear.  79s 

Nor  doth  the  sloth  of  age  our  courage  dull 

Or  break  our  mettle,  but  we  hide  gray  hairs 

Beneath  a  helmet,  and  with  fresh  delight 

E'er  seek  new  spoils  and  by  the  strong  hand  live. 

While  ye !  —  your  very  robes  are  saffron-wrought 

And  purple-dyed.    Ye  hug  your  beds  :  ye  love 

To  trifle  in  the  dance,  with  arms  encased 

In  sleeves,  and  ribboned  mitres  on  your  heads. 

Ay,  Phrygian  women,  not  e'en  Phrygian  men 

Are  ye  !    Go  to  the  heights  of  Dindymus,  ' 

And  list  the  thrilling  of  the  pipe,  for  so 

Ye  wont.    Your  mother's  timbrel  and  her  flute 

Of  Berecynthian  wood  are  calling  you 

To  Ida's  hills.    Leave  war  to  men,  and  throw 

Your  swords  away." 

No  more  Ascanius  bore 
The  insult  of  his  brag  and  diatribe. 
Confronting  him,  he  to  his  arrow  strained 
The  horse-hair  string,  drew  wide  apart  his  arms. 
And  standing  then  awhile  in  prayer  to  Jove, 
Thus  lifted  up  to  him  a  suppliant's  vows  :  815 
"  Almighty  Jove,  my  bold  endeavor  aid  ! 
So  to  thy  temple-gates  with  mine  own  hand 
Will  I  bring  hallowed  gifts,  and  sacrifice 
Upon  thine  altar-front  a  snow  white  steer 
With  gilded  horns,  that  butts  and  paws  the  sand, 


300 


THE  iENEID. 


And  lifts  his  head  no  lower  than  his  dam's." 

The  Father  hears,  and  thunders  on  the  left 
From  the  serenest  quarter  of  the  sky. 
Quick  twangs  the  fateful  bow.    Drawn  to  the  head, 
The  arrow  with  a  vengeful  hiss  speeds  on  :  825 
Straight  through  the  skull  of  Remulus  it  goes, 
And  to  his  brain  drives  home  the  barb.    "  Go  mock 
At  merit  with  a  boaster's  sneer !    Be  this 
The  answer  these  twice-captured  Phrygians  send 
To  the  Rutulians  back  !  "    That  and  no  more  ^30 
Ascanius  said.    The  Trojans  cheer,  and  wild 
With  joy,  their  courage  mounts  as  high  as  heaven. 

Chance  then  long-haired  Apollo  from  the  skies 
Was  looking  down  on  the  Italian  camp 
And  battle-field.    Upon  the  clouds  he  sat, 
And  spake  lulus  flushed  with  victory  thus  ! 

On,  with  fresh  courage,  boy  !    So  mounts  the  way 
To  glory,  thou  of  gods  the  son,  of  gods 
To  be  the  sire !    Under  the  Trojan  sway, 
All  wars  that  are  to  be  shall  one  day  calm  840 
To  universal  peace.    Not  Troy  alone 
Is  thy  circumference."    E'en  as  he  spake, 
From  upper  air  he  shot,  parted  the  winds, 
And  sought  Ascanius  out.    There  put  he  on 
Old  Butes'  face,  who  long  before  in  Troy  845 
Had  once  Anchises'  armor-bearer  been, 
Since  then  a  trusty  keeper  at  his  gate, 
Selected  by  ^neas  now  and  made 
Companion  for  his  son.    In  every  way 
Like  this  old  man  disguised,  skin,  voice,  white  hair,  ^5° 
Even  in  armor  that  was  terrible 


BOOK  IX. 


301 


In  nothing  but  its  din,  Apollo  came 

And  spake  the  flushed  lulus  in  these  words : 

"  Son  of  ^neas,  let  it  be  enough 

That  thou  unhurt  hast  with  thine  arrow  slain  ^ss 

Numanus.    Great  Apollo  grants  thee  this 

Thy  first  achievement,  neither  envies  he 

Thine  equal  skill  in  arms.     Hereafter,  boy, 

Avoid  the  fight."    Apollo  thus  began, 

But  fled  from  mortal  sight  ere  half  was  said, 

And  faded  in  the  far  thin  air  from  view. 

Then  recognized  the  Trojan  chiefs  the  god, 

And  his  divine  accoutrements :  they  heard 

His  quiver  rattle  as  he  sped,  gave  heed 

To  Phcebus'  will  and  word,  and  from  the  field,  ^^s 

Though  now  his  blood  was  up,  Ascanius  dragged. 

Then  to  the  combat  back  they  rush,  and  risk 

Their  lives  in  open  peril.    Shouts  go  up 

Along  the  battlements  the  whole  wall's  length. 

Boldly  they  bend  the  bow;  the  javelin  forth  ^7° 

They  hurl.    With  missiles  all  the  ground  is  strewn. 

The  hollow  helmet  and  the  shield  ring  back 

Incessant  showers  of  blows.    Thickens  the  fight. 

So,  when  the  rainy  Kids  are  in  the  sky, 

Bursts  from  the  west  the  gale  and  beats  the  earth  ;  ^75 

A  hurricane  of  hail  sweeps  o'er  the  sea, 

And  Jove,  terrific  mid  the  storm,  lets  pour 

The  winter  rain  and  bursts  the  swollen  cloud. 

The  young  chiefs  Pandarus  and  Bitias  then, 
Alcanor  of  Mount  Ida's  sons,  both  whom  ^So 
Wood-nymph  laera  in  Jove's  forest  reared, 
Tall  as  their  native  firs  and  mighty  hills 


302 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  trusting  to  their  prowess,  fling  wide  back 

The  gate  committed  to  their  chieftainship, 

And  dare  the  foe  to  charge  upon  the  walls.  885 

They  in  the  portal  stand  like  turrets  twain 

At  right  and  left,  armed  with  the  sword,  their  tall 

Heads  plumed  and  flashing  brilliantly.    So,  high 

In  air  anear  some  river's  bank,  along 

The  borders  of  the  Po  or  by  the  stream  ^ 

Of  gentle  Athesis,  twin  towering  oaks 

Lift  up  their  leafy  heads  to  heaven,  and  wave 

The  foliage  of  their  tops.    The  Rutuli, 

Soon  as  they  see  an  entrance  open,  charge : 

Quercens  is  up  —  that  handsome  cavalier  ^95 

Aquicolus  —  Haemon  true  son  of  Mars  — 

And  the  impetuous  Tmarus.    But  routed  all. 

They  either  turn  their  backs  or  else  lay  down 

Their  lives  e'en  on  the  threshold  of  the  gate. 

Each  for  himself,  no  oneness  of  command,  9<» 

The  panic  grows.    At  this  the  Trojans  mass 

Their  gathering  forces  :  hand  to  hand  they  fight. 

Emboldened  e'en  to  sally  from  their  works. 

To  Turnus  chief,  storming  and  routing  all 
Before  him  in  another  quarter,  posts  905 
A  messenger  announcing  that  the  foe 
Fresh  havoc  make,  and  open  throw  their  gates. 
He  leaves  the  work  in  hand,  wrought  to  the  pitch 
Of  rage,  and  rushes  to  the  Trojan  port 
Where  stand  the  haughty  pair.    He  hurls  his  spear  910 
And  first  strikes  down  Antiphates  —  the  first 
To  cross  his  path  —  the  great  Sarpedon's  son 
Got  by  a  Theban  mother's  slip.    The  shaft 


BOOK  IX. 


303 


Of  good  Italian  cornel  cuts  the  air, 
And,  penetrating  at  the  throat,  is  lodged  915 
Deep  in  his  heart.  Dark  yawns  the  wound  j  forth  spouts 
A  tide  of  blood,  the  spear  head  simmering  still 
In  his  gashed  vitals.    Then,  at  hand  to  hand, 
He  Merops,  Erymas,  Aphidnus  kills, 
And  Bitias  next,  who  foams  with  rage,  his  eyes  920 
A  glare  of  fire,  —  not  with  the  javelin  slain, 
For  ne'er  to  javelin  had  he  yielded  life  ; 
But  with  a  mighty  wail  a  great  slung  spear 
Had  sped,  driven  like  a  thunderbolt.    Not  two 
Bulls'  hides,  nor  trusty  coat  of  mail,  though  wrought  925 
With  double  rings  of  gold,  could  bear  that  shock : 
The  ponderous  frame  goes  crashing  down ;  earth 
groans 

Beneath ;  above  him  thunders  his  huge  shield. 

So  falls  at  Baiae,  on  the  Euboean  shore, 

Some  pile  of  rocks  which,  towering  high  in  air,  930 

Is  toppled  over  in  the  sea :  it  drags 

Down  ruin  in  its  fall,  and,  settling,  sinks 

Straight  to  the  bottom  of  the  deep :  the  waves 

The  vortex  fill ;  the  dark  sea-sands  boil  up  : 

Quake  with  the  sound  the  heights  of  Prochyta;  935 

And  quakes  Inarime,  the  rugged  bed 

That  Jove's  command  hath  for  Typhoeus  set. 

Now  hath  the  war-god  Mars  breathed  strength  and 
zeal 

Into  the  Latins'  breasts,  and  pricked  their  souls, 
But  sent  the  Trojans  flight  and  gloomy  fear.  940 
The  foe  mass  for  the  charge.    Now  that  the  fight 
Is  on,  the  warrior  god  inspires  their  hearts. 


THE  ^NEID. 


But  soon  as  Pandarus  his  brother  sees 

A  corse  upon  the  ground,  sees  fortune  turned, 

And  what  the  crisis  is,  with  all  his  strength,  945 

His  brawny  shoulders  at  the  work,  he  shuts 

The  gate  upon  its  swinging  hinge,  and  leaves, 

Fenced  out  beyond  the  walls,  there  fighting  still. 

Many  a  Trojan  friend,  yet  in  the  rush 

Lets  and  bars  in  with  him  a  mass  of  foes.  9Sf* 

Fool !  that  he  saw  not  the  Rutulian  king 

Come  dashing  through  the  centre  of  the  throng, 

And  shut  him  recklessly  inside  the  camp 

Like  some  huge  tiger  mid  a  flock  of  sheep, 

A  fiercer  light  shot  ever  from  his  eyes :  9S5 

His  arms  rang  panic ;  fluttered  crimson  red 

The  plumes  upon  his  helm ;  and  from  his  shield 

Flashed  back  the  gleaming  light ;  till  suddenly 

And  terror-struck  the  Trojans  recognize 

That  hated  face  and  that  gigantic  frame.  960 

Ablaze  with  anger  at  his  brother's  death 

Forth  leaps  huge  Pandarus  and  cries  :  "  Not  here 

Dost  thou  invade  Amata's  palace  court, 

The  dowry  of  thy  bride  !    Not  Ardea  now 

Her  Turnus  nurses  in  his  native  town  !  96s 

Thou  see'st  the  encampment  of  a  foe  :  nor  canst 

Thou  hence  escape  !  "    But  Turnus,  undisturbed, 

But  laughs  at  him  :  "  Come  on,  if  thou  art  not 

A  coward  !    Strike  !  and  thou  shalt  Priam  tell 

That  here  too  an  Achilles  thou  didst  meet."  970 

E'en  as  he  spake,  straining  at  every  nerve 

The  other  hurled  a  spear  all  rough  with  knots, 

The  bark  still  on.    It  wounded  but  the  air : 


BOOK  IX. 


305 


Saturnian  Juno  came  diverting  it, 

And  in  a  post  it  stuck.    "  Not  so  shalt  thou 

Escape  the  shaft  this  stout  right  arm  of  mine 

Doth  wield  !    Not  such  the  weapon  or  the  wound 

I  strike  !  "  is  Turnus'  answer,  as  to  full 

Height  rising,  with  his  lifted  sword  he  drives 

The  keen  blade  through  the  forehead  of  the  chief  980 

Straight  'twixt  the  eyes,  and  with  a  yawning  cut 

Asunder  cleaves  his  beardless  cheeks.    A  crash 

Is  heard:  earth  trembles  with  the  ponderous  fall. 

A  wreck  of  flesh  and  bone,  an  ooze  of  blood 

And  brains,  dead  on  the  ground  he  falls.  His  head,  985 

Cut  half  and  half,  on  either  shoulder  hangs. 

In  the  hot  haste  of  fear,  the  Trojans  turn 

Their  backs  and  fly  apart,  and  had  it  then 

But  entered  in  the  victor's  mind  to  burst 

With  his  own  hand  the  bolts,  open  the  gates,  990 

And  let  his  own  men  in,  that  day  had  been 

The  last  day  of  the  war  and  of  the  race. 

But  fury  and  the  mad  desire  to  kill 

Drive  him  still  flaming  on  against  the  foe. 

'Tis  Phalaris  and  hamstrung  Gyges  first  99S 
He  overtakes  and,  as  they  fly  from  him. 
Snatches  their  spears  and  gores  them  in  the  back. 
Juno  inspires  him  strength  and  soul.    To  them 
Halys  he  adds  and  Phegeus  whom  he  stabs 
Straight  through  his  shield,  and  slaughters  other 
chiefs  1000 
Who,  unaware  of  his  approaching  them, 
Still  shout  the  battle  cry  upon  the  walls  — 
Alcander  and  Noemon,  Halius  next 

30 


3o6 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  Prytanis.    Upon  the  battlement 

With  his  quick  gleaming  sword,  nerved  to  the  blow,  ^°°s 

He  L}Ticeus  kills  —  who  makes  at  him  and  warns 

The  rest  —  and  far  his  head  and  helmet  sends 

Clipped  at  close  quarters  at  a  single  stroke. 

Next  Amycus  the  Hunter  low  he  lays, 

Who  in  the  art  of  polishing  a  shaft  ^*»*° 

Or  poisoning  a  dart  no  rival  had ; 

Slays  Clytius  next  the  son  of  ^olus ; 

And  Creteus  to  the  muses  dear  —  their  friend 

Who  loved  the  lute  and  song,  and  loved  to  set 

The  numbers  to  the  strings,  and  alwavs  sans^  ^°'5 

Of  steeds  and  heroes'  feats  and  battle-fields. 

Until  at  last  the  Trojan  chiefs  Mnestheus 
And  bold  S.erestus,  learning  how  their  friends 
Are  slaughtered,  come  together.    Soon  as  they 
Behold  their  comrades  routed,  and  the  foe 
Within  the  gates,  shouts  Mnestheus :  "  Whither  fly 
Ye  then  ?   Where  would  ye  go  ?   What  other  walls, 
Or  camp  have  ye  than  these  ?    Shall  but  one  man, 
And  he,  O  citizens,  hedged  round  about 
By  our  own  ramparts  —  not  a  blow  struck  back  —  ^o^s 
Do  such  a  slaughter  in  our  streets,  and  send 
So  many  of  our  chiefs  to  hell !    Ye  knaves, 
For  your  poor  countr}^,  for  your  ancient  gods, 
For  great  ^neas  have  ye  then  no  sense 
Of  pity  or  of  shame  ?  "    Fired  by  his  words,  ^°3o 
They  rally  and  close  up  their  ranks  again. 
Little  by  little  Turnus  from  the  fight 
Falls  back  and  edges  toward  the  river,  where 
The  camp  is  bordered  by  its  flow.    At  this 


BOOK  IX. 


307 


The  Trojans  but  the  more  with  lusty  shouts  ^°35 

Charge  on  and  reinforce  their  numbers.  So 

A  band  of  hunters  with  relentless  steel 

Attack  some  raging  lion,  that  on  guard 

Yet  fierce  and  glaring  savagely  retreats  : 

Nor  rage  nor  native  courage  lets  him  turn  ^°4o 

His  back  :  nor  can  he,  howsoe'er  he  would, 

Against  the  hunters  and  their  weapons  fly. 

Not  less  doth  Turnus  cautiously  bear  back 

His  guarded  steps,  his  heart  on  fire  with  rage  : 

Nay,  twice  e'en  then  the  centre  of  the  foe  ^°4S 

He  charges ;  twice  their  routed  column  drives 

Flying  along  the  walls.    But  soon  on  him 

Alone  set  all  the  forces  of  the  camp. 

Nor  dares  Saturnian  Juno  grant  him  power 

To  beat  them  off,  for  Jove  from  heaven  hath  sent  ^°5o 

The  ethereal  Iris  to  his  sister  down 

To  give  stern  warning  that  her  Turnus  draw 

From  off  the  Trojan  walls.    Then  nor  with  shield 

Nor  sword  the  chief  can  more  endure.    At  large 

He  throws  his  arms  away,  and  headlong  runs.  ^°5S 

Round  his  helmed  head  his  casque  rings  with  the  blows 

That  batter  it  incessantly,  and  e'en 

His  solid  brazen  armor  cracks  beneath 

A  shower  of  stones.    His  plume  from  off  his  head 

Is  torn :   His  buckler  shatters  in  the  storm  : 

The  Trojans  with  their  spears  upon  him  press, 

With  Mnestheus  thundering  at  their  head.  Sweat  pours 

From  top  to  toe  its  clammy  tide :  his  breath 

Is  spent :  he  pants  so  hard  his  tired  frame  shakes, 


3o8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Till  in  the  nick  of  time,  at  but  a  bound,  1065 

With  all  his  armor  on,  into  the  stream 

He  leaps.    Him  in  its  yellow  tide  it  takes 

Upon  his  coming ;  on  its  tender  breast 

It  bears  him  forth,  and  rinsing  off  the  blood 

Sends  him  rejoicing  back  to  his  allies.  1070 


Jove. 
From  the  Vatican. 


TENTH  BOOK. 


TV /TEANTIME  heaven's  mighty  halls  are  opened 
-Ly-L  wide. 

The  father  of  the  gods  and  king  of  men, 

Jove  calls  a  council  on  the  starry  heights. 

Uplifted  there  he  looks  on  all  the  earth, 

The  Latin  legions  and  the  Trojan  camp.  s 

The  court  is  filled,  open  at  either  side, 
And  Jove  begins  :  "  Ye  mighty  ones  of  heaven, 
Why  hath  your  purpose  changed  ?    Why  wrangle  ye 
So  bitterly  ?    That  Italy  should  greet 
The  Trojans  to  a  battle-field,  I  had  " 
Forbid.    What  means  this  disobedience  still, 
When  I  say  Nay'?    What  is't  ye  fear,  that  ye 
Stir  these  or  those  to  take  up  arms  and  wield 
The  sword  ?    War  in  due  time  —  anticipate 
It  not  —  shall  come  when  on  the  Roman  towers 
Fierce  Carthage  shall  let  devastation  loose. 
And  ope  a  gateway  through  the  Alps.    Then  hate 
May  rend,  and  ravage  stalk.    But  now  give  o'er ; 
Be  it  your  joy  to  make  the  pact  of  peace." 

Thus  briefly  Jove.    But  not  so  brief  the  words 
Of  gold  that  fall  from  Venus'  lips  :  "  O  sire, 
Of  mind  and  matter  the  eternal  spring, 
On  whom  now  can  we  call  if  not  on  thee ! 
Thou  see'st  the  insults  of  these  Rutuli : 
How  in  his  shining  chariot  right  and  left  »s 


THE  .ENEID. 


This  Turnus  lords  it  puffed  with  victory  up. 

Even  their  own  enclosure  of  the  camp 

Gives  shelter  to  the  Trojans  now  no  more. 

Nay,  e'en  within  their  gates,  within  their  walls. 

The  battle  fares  :  their  ditches  swim  with  blood.  3° 

^neas  is  away  and  knows  it  not. 

Troy  born  again,  wilt  thou  ne'er  raise  its  siege  } 

Shall  threat  it  yet  a  second  time  the  foe, 

Another  army  ?    And  shall  Diomed 

Once  more  against  the  Trojans  lead,  this  time  35 

From  Arpi,  the  ^tolians  !  Nay,  meseems 

That  my  own  wounds  must  needs  revive  again, 

And  I,  thy  child,  must  stoop  to  mortal  sword  ! 

If  'gainst  thy  peace,  against  thy  will  have  come 

The  men  of  Troy  to  Italy,  let  them  40 

Their  crime  atone ;  nor  help  them  with  thine  aid  : 

But  if  they  follow  but  the  oracles 

That  gods  above  and  shades  below  so  oft 

Have  o'er  and  o'er  again  declared  to  them, 

Why  now  should  any  one  have  power  to  set  « 

Thy  word  aside  or  reconstruct  the  fates  ? 

Why  call  to  mind  the  burning  of  their  fleet 

On  Eryx'  shore  !  or  how  the  king  of  storms 

The  mad  winds  in  ^olia  late  did  loose  ! 

Or  Iris,  sent  from  heaven  !    E'en  now  —  one  last  5° 

Untried  resort  —  Alecto  scours  from  hell, 

Pricked  sudden  on  by  some  of  our  great  ones. 

And  raves  the  Italian  cities  through  and  through ! 

Longer  for  empire  care  I  naught.    For  that 

We  hoped  while  fortune  favored :  let  them  win  ss 

Whom  thou  preferr'st  to  win.    Yet  if  there  be 


BOOK  X. 


Nowhere  a  realm  thy  unrelenting  spouse 
Can  grant  the  Trojans,  then  O  Father  Jove, 
By  ruined  Troy's  still  smoking  waste  I  beg, 
Let  me  at  least  in  safety  from  the  war  ^ 
Bear  off  Ascanius  —  let  my  grandson  live ! 
Him  let  me  have  the  power  to  shield  and  lead 
Out  of  the  perils  of  the  fight,  though  still 
yEneas  tossed  on  unknown  seas  may  go 
Wherever  fortune  points  the  way.   Mine  own  *5 
Is  Amathus,  mine  Paphos'  heights  and  mine 
Lofty  Cythera  and  the  Idalian  groves ; 
There  let  him  live  inglorious,  there  hang  up 
His  arms.    Bid  Carthage  lay  its  heavy  yoke 
On  Italy :  naught  sprung  from  him  shall  then  7° 
Block  the  advancement  of  the  Tyrian  state. 
What  worth  that  in  their  quest  for  Latium's  strand, 
Affreighted  with  the  germ  of  the  new  Troy, 
The  Trojans  from  the  war  have  'scaped  unharmed, 
Have  run  the  gantlet  of  the  Grecian  fires,  7S 
And  have  by  flood  and  on  the  desert  waste 
So  many  perils  passed !    Better  they  laid 
Their  ashes  in  their  native  land  —  the  soil 
Where  once  stood  Troy  !    Give  these  poor  Troja  is 
back, 

I  beg,  their  Xanthus  and  their  Simois,  ^ 

And  let  them,  Father,  yet  again  live  o'er 

The  miseries  of  Ilium's  fate  !  "    Stung  then 

With  fury  to  the  quick,  queen  Juno  cried : 

"  Why  force  me  break  the  deeps  of  secrecy 

Or  tell  the  crowd  my  hidden  grief  ?    What  god  85 

Or  man  hath  bid  ^neas  go  to  war, 


312 


THE  ^NEID. 


Or  made  the  Latin  king  his  enem}^  ? 

The  fates  forced  him  to  Italy  !  they  say. 

What  then  !  'twas  mad  Cassandra  cheated  him. 

Did  we  advise  him  to  forsake  his  camp,  90 

Trust  to  the  winds  his  life,  or  to  a  boy 

Commit  the  issue  of  the  war,  while  he 

Alliance  with  the  Tuscans  seeks,  and  sets 

Mild-going  peoples  by  the  ears  ?    What  god, 

What  unrelenting  spite  of  mine  hath  forced  95 

Him  in  a  trap  ?    Where  is  the  trace  as  yet 

Of  Juno's  hand,  or  what  to  do  with  me 

Had  Iris'  message  from  the  clouds  ?    Great  shame, 

Indeed,  that  the  Italians  ring  with  flames 

This  new-born  Troy,  and  Turnus  stands  his  ground 

Upon  his  native  soil,  whose  grandfather 

Pilumnus  was,  his  mother  the  divine 

Venilia  !    How  is  it  when  Trojans  too 

The  vengeful  firebrand  at  the  Latins  hurl, 

Lord  it  o'er  fields  that  are  not  theirs,  and  bear  ^^s 

The  plunder  off !    What,  when  they  kidnap  wives 

At  will,  and  from  the  embrace  of  lovers  snatch 

Their  plighted  ones ;  with  strong  hand  dictate  peace ; 

And  set  the  battle-standard  on  their  decks! 

^Eneas  thou  canst  rescue  from  the  Greeks,  "° 

Wrap  him  around  with  cloud  and  viewless  air, 

And  turn  his  boats  into  as  many  nymphs. 

Is't  then  a  crime  that  on  the  other  side 

I  have  a  little  helped  the  Rutuli  ? 

JEneas  is  away  and  knows  it  not! 

Then  let  him  stay  away  and  know  it  not. 

Thine,  say'st  thou,  Paphos  and  Idalium  are. 


BOOK  X. 


And  thine  Cythera's  heights  !    Why  then  essay 
A  realm  at  war's  hard  cost,  or  strain  at  hearts 
That  love  thee  not  ?   Besides,  is't  we  who  seek  "° 
To  overturn  this  sickly  Phrygian  state  ? 
We !  Nay,  who  was  it  to  the  Greeks  exposed 
These  Trojans  knaves  ?    How  happed  it  that  to  blows 
Europe  and  Asia  came  and  broke  their  peace 
Because  of  fraud  ?    Did  I  induce  from  Troy, 
To  outrage  Sparta,  an  adulterer  ? 
Did  I  provoke  to  arms,  or  nurse  the  war 
/Through  Cupid's  arts  ?    'Twas  then  thou  shoulds't 
have  had 

Some  caution  for  thine  own.    Unjust  and  late 

This  whining  now,  these  insolent  weak  flings."  ^30 

So  Juno  spake  :  and  the  celestials  all 
Murmured  their  various  assent.    So  stirs 
The  wind's  first  breath  that  rustles  in  the  woods, 
Breathing  an  undertone,  betokening  thus 
To  mariners  the  rising  of  the  storm.  315 
Ruler  of  all,  the  Almighty  Father  then 
Began,  and  while  he  spake  the  lofty  courts 
Of  heaven  were  still,  still  the  awed  earth,  and  still 
The  ethereal  heights.    The  very  winds  did  hush, 
And  ocean  calmed  its  billows  to  repose. 
"  Give  ear  and  let  my  words  sink  deep.    To  terms 
The  Italians  and  the  Trojans  cannot  come, 
It  seems,  nor  doth  your  quarrel  have  an  end. 
As  fortune  stands  with  either  side  this  day, 
Let  it  with  Trojan  or  Rutulian  be  — 
Whatever  hope  hath  either  —  I  will  have 
No  favor  shown ;  I  care  not,  be  it  fate, 


314 


THE  iENEID. 


Or  blunder  on  the  part  of  Troy  misled 
By  lying  oracles,  that  round  its  walls 
The  Italian  hosts  encamp,  besieging  them.  ^5° 
Nor  will  I  spare  in  aught  the  Rutuli. 
They  each  must  bide  the  risk  and  fate  they  tempt : 
King  over  all  alike  is  Jupiter ; 
Fate  shall  be  fate."    He  nails  it  with  an  oath  — 
By  Styx,  his  brother's  flood,  and  by  its  banks  ^ss 
With  pitch  and  yawning  whirlpools  washed.  All 
heaven 

Quakes  at  his  nod.  Speech  at  an  end,  Jove  moves 
From  off  his  golden  throne.  Ranged  on  each  side. 
Him  the  celestials  to  the  gates  escort. 

Meantime  the  Rutuli  at  every  port 
Press  up.    They  strew  the  ground  with  dead,  and  gird 
The  walls  with  fire.    Pent  up  within  their  works 
The  Trojans  are  at  bay,  all  hope  cut  off 
Of  their  escape.    There  sadly  and  in  vain 
Upon  the  turret-tops  they  stand,  and  line 
Their  circling  ramparts  with  a  thin  defence  — 
Their  leaders,  Asius  son  of  Imbrasus, 
Thymoetes,  Hicetaon's  son,  the  two 
Assaraci,  Thymbris  the  veteran. 
And  Castor,  and  in  company  with  them 
Sarpedon's  twins  from  famous  Lycia  sent, 
Clarus  and  Themon.    Straining  every  nerve 
A  hugh  rock  Acmon  of  Lyrnessus  hurls 
Big  as  a  mountain  crag — himself  no  less 
A  warrior  than  his  brother  Mnestheus  e'en,  »7S 
Or  Clytius  too,  his  sire.    The  Rutuli 
With  javelins  charge;  the  Trojans  fend  them  oif 


BOOK  X. 


With  showers  of  stones,  fling  balls  of  fire,  and  draw 

The  arrow  to  the  head.    Amid  it  all, 

The  worthiest  idol  he  of  Venus'  heart,  «^ 

Behold  the  Trojan  boy's  unhelmeted 

And  noble  head,  that  like  a  jewel  set 

In  yellow  gold  doth  from  a  necklace  flash, 

Or  from  a  crown !    So  deftly  set  in  box 

Or  in  Orician  wood  the  ivory  gleams. 

Milk-white  the  neck  that  breaks  the  tumbling  hair 

That  with  a  slender  band  of  gold  is  caught. 

Thee  also,  Ismarus  —  thou  noble  son 

Of  Lydia,  where  they  till  rich  farms  and  where 

Pactolus  irrigates  the  soil  with  gold  — 

Those  mighty  hosts  behold  inflicting  wounds 

And  poisoning  the  arrow-tips  of  war. 

There  too  is  Mnestheus  who  but  yesterday 

Beat  Turnus  from  the  walls  and  rose  to  fame. 

And  Capys,  who  gave  name  to  Capua. 

While  thus  they  dealt  war's  hard  blows  back  and 
forth, 

^neas  in  the  dead  of  night  his  way 

Was  cleaving  down  the  stream.    For,  when  he  went 

Straight  from  Evander  to  the  Etrurian  camp. 

He  spake  its  chieftain  and  to  him  made  known 

His  name  and  nation,  what  he  sought,  and  what 

He  could  contribute  of  his  own :  told  him 

Who  the  allies  Mezentius  had  obtained, 

And  how  malignant  Turnus'  character  : 

Warned  him  how  false  and  fickle  is  the  world,  ^05 

And  wove  his  own  entreaties  in.    No  time 

Is  lost.    Tarchon  joins  forces  and  strikes  hands. 


I 


3i6 


THE  iENEID. 


Then,  fate  fulfilled,  the  Tuscan  host  embark, 

As  bade  the  gods,  under  a  foreign  chief. 

Eneas'  galley  leads  —  its  figure-head  ^lo 

Two  Phrygian  lions  underneath  the  beak, 

While  overhanging  them  Mount  Ida  leans 

Sweet  to  the  eyes  of  Trojan  wanderers. 

In  this  sits  great  ^neas  and  revolves 

In  thought  the  various  phases  of  the  war ;  215 

While  Pallas  close  beside  him  questions  him 

About  the  stars,  of  how  to  steer  at  night, 

Of  his  adventures  on  the  land  and  sea. 

Throw  open  Helicon,  ye  Muses,  now ! 
Breathe  on  me  while  I  sing  what  troops  meantime 
Come  with  ^neas  from  the  Tuscan  shores. 
Manning  his  fleet  and  floating  down  the  stream  ! 

First,  in  the  Tiger  with  its  brazen  beak, 
Massicus  cleaves  the  waves,  under  whose  lead 
A  thousand  fighting-men  bid  Clusium's  walls 
And  Cosae's  streets  adieu,  with  arrows  armed. 
And  quiver  on  the  shoulder  lightly  borne 
And  the  death-dealing  bow.    Bold  Albas  him 
Doth  flank,  his  troops  in  glittering  armor  clad, 
His  boat  resplendent  with  Apollo  carved  *3o 
In  gold.    His  native  Populonia  too  . 
Hath  given  to  him  six  hundred  veterans ; 
And  Ilva's  isle,  rich  inexhaustibly 
In  iron  mines,  three  hundred  more.    The  third 
Is  that  Asylas  who  the  purposes 
Of  men  and  gods  doth  read,  and  unto  whom 
The  entrails  of  the  flock,  the  stars  of  heaven, 
The  tongues  of  birds,  the  lightning's  prescient  flash 


BOOK  X. 


Make  revelation.    To  the  front  he  leads, 

In  order  close  and  bristling  thick  their  spears, 

A  thousand  men  whom  Pisa,  colonized 

From  Elis  but  engraft  on  Tuscan  soil. 

Hath  put  at  his  command.    Then  following  him, 

Firm  in  the  saddle  he,  and  picturesque 

With  many  colors,  handsome  Astur  comes,  ^45 

Three  hundred  soldiers  his,  who  follow  him 

And  have  no  other  thought — some  from  their  home 

In  Caere,  some  who  dwell  on  Minio's  plains, 

Some  from  old  Pyrgi  or  Graviscae's  fogs. 

Nor  will  I,  Cinyras,  forget  thy  name,  ^50 
Thou  bravest  war-chief  of  the  Ligures ; 
Nor  thine,  Cupavo,  though  thy  train  be  small, 
The  swan-plumes  waving  o'er  thy  head  to  mark 
The  shape  thy  father  took,  whose  crime  and  thine 
Was  that  ye  loved  too  well.    For  goes  the  tale,  255 
That  Cycnus  grieved  for  Phaethon  his  friend. 
And  sang  of  him  beneath  the  poplar  leaves 
Under  the  shade  the  transformed  sisters  cast. 
His  sorrow  for  his  dead  friend  solaced  he 
With  poesy,  until  in  hoar  old  age  260 
There  grew  on  him  soft  plumage,  and  from  earth 
He  soared,  and  as  his  songs  rose  to  the  stars 
So  he  did  follow  them.    And  now  his  son. 
His  followers  good  as  any  in  the  fleet. 
Rows  the  huge  Centaur,  with  a  figure-head  265 
That  plunges  in  the  tide  or,  towering  high. 
Threatens  a  monstrous  boulder  at  the  wave. 
Furrowing  the  waters  with  its  keel  afar. 

And  Ocnus  too,  son  of  the  prophetess 


3i8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Manto  and  of  the  Tuscan  river  god,  270 

Summons  his  cohorts  from  his  native  shores. 

Mantua,  he  gave  to  thee  his  mother's  name  — 

Thou,  Mantua,  affluent  in  thine  ancestry 

Not  of  a  single  but  of  three-fold  stock ! 

Four  cities  and  one  nation  —  Mantua  was  275 

Its  capital ;  its  Tuscan  blood  its  strength. 

Five  hundred  soldiers  thence  to  fight  him  now 

Mezentius  hath  provoked :  Fringed  with  its  sedge 

Of  green,  the  Mincius  bears  them  to  the  sea 

In  their  war-craft  from  lake  Benacus'  source.  ^So 

Comes  stout  Aulestes  rising  to  the  stroke 
And  lashing  with  a  hundred  oars  the  tide. 
The  furrowed  waters  foam.    Great  Triton  flings 
The  blue  waves  from  its  shell  and  bears  him  on : 
Its  hairy  trunk  far  as  the  middle  wears  ^85 
A  human  form  and  thence  the  belly  flows 
Into  a  fish,  while  'neath  its  half-wild  breast 
Murmurs  the  rippling  tide.    Their  brazen  beaks 
Ploughing  the  deep  to  bear  the  Trojans  aid, 
In  thirty  boats  go  thirty  chosen  chiefs.  ^90 

And  now  the  light  had  faded  from  the  sky. 
And  the  fair  moon,  half  her  night-journey  done, 
Was  trembling  in  the  heavens.  Anxiety 
Gave  to  .f^Eneas'  limbs  no  rest.  Astern 
He  sits,  and  with  his  own  hand  guides  the  helm  ^95 
And  trims  the  sails,  when  lo !  mid-stream  there  come 
A  band  of  his  own  ones  to  meet  him  —  nymphs. 
To  whom  good  Cybele  gives  mastery  o'er 
The  deep  —  the  very  nymphs  that  she  had  bid 
His  boats  to  be.    On,  side  by  side,  they  swim  300 


BOOK  X. 


And  cut  the  ripples,  none  the  less  nor  more 

Than  late  the  brazen  beaks  that  lined  the  strand. 

While  yet  afar,  they  recognize  their  king, 

And  throng  in  choirs  around  him.    Of  them  all, 

Cymodocea,  the  readiest  of  speech,  30s 

Follows  astern,  her  right  hand  on  the  boat, 

Her  left  a  noiseless  paddle  'neath  the  waves. 

Her  shoulders  rising  up  above  the  stream. 

Thus  speaks  she  him  all  ignorant  who  she  is : 

"  Wak'st  thou,  ^neas,  scion  of  the  gods  ?  310 

Awake,  and  set  all  sail !    We  are  the  pines 

That  grew  on  Ida's  sacred  top  —  thy  fleet, 

Now  naiads  of  the  sea.    The  treacherous 

Rutulian  pressed  us  hard  with  fire  and  steel : 

Reluctantly  we  broke  our  moorings  then  315 

To  search  the  stream  for  thee.    'Twas  Cybele 

Who,  pitying  us,  re-made  us  in  this  shape, 

And  gave  us  to  be  goddesses  and  live 

Beneath  the  waves.    But  all  this  while  thy  boy 

Ascanius,  prisoned  in  by  wall  and  ditch,  320 

The  Latins  up  in  arms,  fights  hand  to  hand. 

Already  the  Arcadian  cavalry 

And  the  brave  Tuscans  have  their  forces  joined 

Where  they  were  bid.    But  Turnus  is  resolved 

To  intercept  them  with  his  troops,  so  they  325 

Join  not  the  camp.    Rise,  and  at  peep  of  dawn 

Bid  thou  thy  men  be  called  at  once  to  arms. 

And  take  thyself  the  impenetrable  shield 

Vulcan's  own  hand  did  give  thee  and  with  gold 

Did  blazon  it!    To-morrow's  sun  —  unless  330 

Thou  thinks't  my  words  are  but  an  idle  dream  — 


320 


THE  ^NEID. 


Shall  see  great  masses  of  Rutulian  dead." 

This  said,  with  her  right  hand  —  not  ignorant  how  — 
She  gave  the  lofty  stern  a  parting  push, 
And  o'er  the  tide  it  flew  swifter  than  spear  335 
Or  arrow  rivaling  the  wind.    At  this 
The  other  nymphs  impel  the  other  boats. 
Although  himself  uncertain  and  amazed, 
Bravely  the  Trojan  chief,  Anchises'  son, 
His  comrades  with  the  omen  cheers,  and  thus,  340 
His  eyes  to  heaven  uplifted,  briefly  prays  : 
"  Good  mother  of  the  gods,  on  Ida  shrined. 
Who  Dindymus  and  cities  crowned  with  towers 
Dost  love,  and  yokest  lions  to  thy  car, 
Now  be  thou  first  to  help  me  in  the  fight !  345 
Make  sure  the  augury  and,  goddess,  cheer 
The  Trojans  with  thy  hovering  guardianship." 
No  more  he  spake,  for  now  returning  day 
Poured  its  full  light  and  drove  the  night  afar. 

At  once  he  bids  his  men  the  signals  note,  3so 
Put  mettle  in  their  arms,  and  for  the  fight 
Prepare.    For  standing  now  upon  the  stern. 
Soon  as  he  sees  the  Trojans  and  his  camp, 
He  on  the  instant  lifts  with  his  left  hand 
His  blazing  shield.    The  Trojans  on  the  walls  355 
Shout  high  as  heaven.    Hope  gained  and  courage 
fired, 

They  hurl  a  shower  of  missiles.    So  beneath 

The  murky  clouds  the  cranes  of  Strymon  scream, 

As  noisily  they  swim  the  air  and  fly 

The  south  wind  with  their  happy  cries.   The  king  360 

Of  the  Rutulians  and  the  Italian  chiefs 


BOOK  X. 


321 


Wonder  what  means  it  all,  till  they  look  back 

And  see  the  boats  now  making  for  the  shore, 

And  the  whole  river  ridden  by  a  fleet. 

Shines  there  the  helmet  on  Eneas'  head, —  365 

Like  flame  the  plumes  that  flutter  from  its  crest, 

While  shafts  of  fire  stream  from  his  golden  shield. 

So,  in  the  tranquil  night,  forebodingly 

The  fiery  comet  flashes ;  so  the  blaze 

Of  Sirius,  bringing  drought  and  pestilence,  370 

Upon  a  fever-stricken  world  doth  rise 

And  sadden  with  its  baleful  glare  the  heavens. 

But  falters  not  bold  Turnus'  firm  resolve 
To  anticipate  the  shore  and  from  the  land 
The  invaders  drive.    With  words  of  cheer  he  lifts  375 
The  courage  of  his  men,  and  spurs  them  thus  : 
"  The  moment  now  hath  come  to  crush  the  foe 
For  which  ye  long  have  hoped  and  prayed  to  heaven. 
Soldiers,  the  war  is  now  in  your  own  hands ! 
Now  every  man  remember  wife  and  home  !  380 
Now  call  to  mind  the  mighty  deeds  that  are 
The  glory  of  your  sires  !    Quick  charge  the  shore 
While,  panic-struck,  they  disembarking  slip 
Upon  the  brink !    Luck  fights  on  valor's  side." 
This  said,  he  questions  with  himself  which  troops  38s 
To  lead  to  the  encounter,  and  with  which 
To  leave  the  prosecution  of  the  siege. 

Meantime  ^neas  lands  his  men  on  planks 
That  from  the  lofty  barges  lead.    Some  wait 
The  ebbing  of  the  lazy  tide  and  leap  390 
Into  the  shallows,  or  are  buoyed  on  oars. 
But  Tarchon  notes  an  inlet  where  there  boil 
21 


322 


THE  ^NEID. 


No  eddies,  where  no  surf  roars  back,  but  smooth 

The  sea  flows  full  tide  in.    There  quick  he  turns 

His  prows  and  calls  upon  his  men  :    "  O  now  39s 

My  chosen  band,  pull  with  a  lusty  stroke  ; 

Out  of  the  water  lift  and  force  your  craft ; 

Split  with  your  beaks  this  hostile  strand,  and  let 

Your  keels  their  own  deep  furrows  plough  !    In  such 

A  berth  the  land  once  gained,  I  count  it  naught  400 

Though  we  do  stave  our  boats."    So  Tarchon  spake  ; 

The  men  rose  with  a  will  upon  their  oars 

And  drove  afoam  their  boats  'gainst  Latium's  soil 

Until  each  beak  lay  high  and  dry  aground  — 

Each  boat  there  safely  beached  save,  Tarchon,  thine. 

For  while,  upon  the  shallows  dashed,  it  hung 

On  wavering  keel,  in  doubt  long  balancing. 

And  made  the  waves  impatient,  it  o'erturned 

And  in  mid-water  cast  the  crew,  where  they 

With  broken  oars  and  floating  thwarts  struck  out  410 

And  lost  their  footing  in  the  under-tow. 

No  sluggard  Turnus :  his  whole  battle  line 
He  at  the  Trojans  fiercely  hurls.    At  bay 
He  holds  them  on  the  shore.    The  trumpets  sound. 
At  once  ^neas  strikes  the  rustic  troops,  —  415 
Auspicious  omen  of  the  fight.    He  mows 
The  Latins  down,  and  Theron  kills,  who  dared  — 
The  bulkiest  of  their  chiefs  —  cross  swords  with  him. 
And  whose  gashed  side  he  pierces  with  his  blade 
Straight  through  his  shield  of  brass  and  golden  mail.  420 
Next  Lycas,  cut  from  his  dead  mother's  womb, 
He  slays,  whom,  Phoebus,  thou  did'st  sacred  hold 
Because  'twas  him  permitted  at  his  birth, 


BOOK  X. 


323 


To  'scape  the  peril  of  the  knife.    He  strikes 

The  doughty  Cisseus  and  huge  Gyas  dead,  425 

As  near  him  with  their  clubs  they  rout  whole  lines. 

Of  no  avail  to  them  are  now  the  arms 

Of  Hercules,  their  own  stout  hands,  or  e'en 

Their  sire  Melampus,  who  the  comrade  was 

Of  Hercules  while  earth  imposed  on  him  430 

The  heavy  labors  of  his  life.    Lo !  then 

He  gives  his  spear  a  twist  and  drives  it  down 

The  empty  boaster  Pharus'  bawling  throat. 

Thou,  too,  poor  Cydon,  reckless  of  the  love 
Of  thy  companions,  while  thou  followedst  43s 
Thy  new-found  treasure  Clytius,  with  his  cheeks 
Tinged  with  their  earliest  down,  had'st  pitiably 
Lain  low,  struck  by  that  Trojan  hand,  had  not 
The  sons  of  Phorcus  —  a  united  band 
Of  brothers  —  come  between.    In  number  seven,  440 
They  hurl  seven  spears  at  once.  Some  from  his  helm 
And  shield  glance  harmless  off ;  good  Venus  turns 
The  rest  away  so  they  but  graze  his  side. 
Faithful  Achates  then  ^Eneas  calls  : 
"  Bring  me  the  weapons  here  with  which  I  pierced  445 
The  bodies  of  the  Greeks  on  Ilium's  plains. 
This  right  hand  at  the  Rutuli  shall  aim 
Not  one  of  them  in  vain."    Then  snatches  he 
And  hurls  a  ponderous  spear :  Swift  through  the  air 
It  flies,  and  cuts  through  Mseon's  shield  of  brass,  45<» 
Gashing  at  once  his  breast-plate  and  his  breast. 
Alcanor  rushes  to  his  brother's  aid. 
And  with  his  right  hand  stays  him  as  he  falls. 
At  him  speeds  instantly  another  spear, 


324 


THE  i«;NEID. 


Pierces  his  arm,  and  hits  its  bloody  aim :  4ss 

By  but  the  tendons  of  his  shoulder  held, 

His  dying  hand  hangs  down.    Then  Numitor, 

Snatching  the  javelin  from  his  brother's  corse 

Makes  at  ^neas  :  him  it  may  not  wound, 

But  grazes  past  the  great  Achates'  thigh.  460 

Clausus  of  Cures,  trusting  in  his  youth, 
Advances  now  and  slaughters  Dryopes  : 
Under  his  chin  the  tough  spear  from  afar 
Is  driven  hard  home :  piercing  his  throat,  at  once 
Of  voice  and  life  it  robs  him  while  he  shouts  :  465 
His  forehead  strikes  the  ground,  and  from  his  mouth 
Gushes  a  stream  of  blood.    Three  Thracians  too, 
Of  Boreas'  noble  stock,  with  various  hap 
He  kills,  and  three  whom  father  Iras  sent 
From  their  Ismarian  fatherland.    Up  come  470 
Halaesus  and  the  Auruncan  troops  in  line ; 
Rides  up  Messapus,  brilliantly  equipped, 
A  son  of  Neptune  he.    In  turn,  each  side 
The  other  seeks  to  drive.    It  is  a  fight 
For  the  first  foot-hold  on  Italian  soil.  ^75 
With  equal  violence  and  fury  meet 
The  mad  blasts  of  the  hurricane,  nor  sea 
Nor  cloud  nor  writhing  wind  doth  yield :  long  time 
The  issue  hangs  in  doubt  and  all  the  world 
Is  with  itself  at  war.    Not  otherwise  480 
The  battle-tug  of  Troy  and  Latium  fares 
As  foot  to  foot  and  man  to  man  they  press. 

Farther  along  the  line,  where  far  and  wide 
The  swollen  streams  had  scattered  drifts  of  rocks 
And  piled  the  banks  with  trunks  of  fallen  trees,  ^85 


BOOK  X. 


32s 


Pallas  beholds  the  Arcadian  cavalry, 

Unused  to  fight  on  foot,  fast  falling  back 

Before  the  advancing  Latins.    Nothing  else 

Is  left  in  their  extremity,  so  rough 

The  nature  of  the  ground,  but  to  dismount.  ^90 

He  on  the  instant,  now  with  prayers  and  now 

With  imprecations,  plucks  their  courage  up. 

"  Where,  comrades,  do  ye  fly.?     For  your  own  sakes, 

For  your  brave  record's  sake,  and  for  the  name 

Of  king  Evander  and  your  victories,  49s 

Ay,  for  my  hopes  that  spring  to  emulate 

My  father's  glory,  trust  not  to  your  heels  ! 

The  sword  must  hew  a  highway  through  the  foe 

Where  densest  press  their  ranks.    The  noble  land 

That  gave  you  birth  there  summons  you  and  me  soo 

Your  chief.    No  god  forbids.    Mortals  ourselves, 

'Tis  but  a  mortal  enemy  we  meet. 

Our  hearts  as  brave,  our  numbers  great  as  theirs. 

Lo  !  here  the  sea  imprisons  us  within 

Its  mighty  barrier.    There  no  room  for  flight  s^s 

Is  left  us  now.    Is't  for  the  tide  we  make. 

Or  for  the  Trojan  camp  ?  "    And  as  he  spake, 

He  charged  the  very  centre  of  the  foe. 

The  first  by  cruel  fate  impelled  to  cross 
His  path,  comes  Lagus  whom,  while  stooping  down  s^o 
To  tear  up  from  the  ground  a  ponderous  stone. 
He  bores,  writhed  on  his  spear  just  where  the  spine 
Divides  the  ribs  midway,  and  tries  to  draw 
The  spear-head  out  still  sticking  in  the  bones. 
And  Hisbo  too,  though  high  his  hopes  are  raised,  s^s 
Takes  him  not  unawares,  for  Pallas,  while 


326  THE  ^NEID. 

The  other,  raving  at  his  friend's  hard  fate, 

Advances  recklessly,  quick  faces  him 

And  drives  his  sword  into  his  heaving  breast. 

Next  Sthenelus,  and  then  Anchemolus  520 

Of  Rhoetus'  rusty  stock,  who  dared  the  bed 

Of  his  step-mother  violate,  he  slays. 

Ye,  too,  O  Thymber  and  Lerides,  fall, 

Twin  sons  of  Daucus,  on  Rutulian  fields, 

So  like  each  other  that  your  friends  could  ne'er  525 

Tell  you  apart  —  a  puzzle  that  did  please 

Your  parents  —  till  now  Pallas  'twixt  you  draws 

Harsh  lines  of  difference ;  for  Evander's  sword 

Doth  rob  thee,  Thymber,  of  thy  head,  and  thou  — 

Thy  severed  hand,  Lerides,  gropes  to  find  530 

Its  trunk,  the  lifeless  fingers  quivering  there 

And  reaching  still  to  grasp  the  sword  again. 

Stung  by  their  chief's  rebuke,  beholding  too 
His  valorous  blows,  a  mingled  sense  of  shame 
And  rage  inspires  the  Arcadians  to  attack  sss 
The  foe.    Pallas,  as  Rhoetus  in  his  car 
Sweeps  past,  transfixes  him.    The  interval 
Postpones  the  death  of  Ilus  for  a  space. 
For  Pallas  had  afar  at  Ilus  aimed 
His  powerful  spear,  and  Rhoetus  in  its  way  540 
Had  come  while,  noble  Teuthras,  in  full  flight 
From  thee  and  from  thy  brother  Tyres.  Dragged 
Behind  the  car,  he  ploughs  the  Italian  soil 
With  his  half-lifeless  heels.    So  when  the  winds 
In  summer  rise,  the  shepherd  rashly  sets  5*5 
The  spreading  fire  amid  the  underwood: 
It  catches  first  the  centre  of  the  pile, 


BOOK  X. 


327 


Then,  one  wild  blazing  sheet,  it  sweeps  across 

The  open  fields,  while  he  sits  conqueror 

And  gazes  on  the  exulting  flames.    So  round  550 

Thee,  Pallas,  cluster,  rushing  to  thy  aid. 

All  thy  brave  comrades.    But  against  their  ranks 

Halaesus  bold  in  battle  charges  up. 

Throws  his  whole  soul  into  his  arms,  and  kills 

Ladon  and  Pheres  and  Demodocus ;  sss 

With  gleaming  sword  Strymonius'  right  hand 

He  clips,  as  at  his  throat  it  springs;  he  staves 

The  face  of  Thoas  with  a  rock  —  a  mass 

Of  bones  and  blood  and  brains  outspattering. 

His  sire,  prophetic  of  his  fate,  had  hid  s6o 

Halaesus  in  the  woods,  but  when  in  death 

The  old  man  closed  his  fainting  eyes,  the  Fates 

Seized  on  the  son  and  to  Evander's  spear 

Made  him  a  sacrifice.    Him  Pallas  sought 

With  first  a  prayer — "  Grant,  Father  Tiber,  now  565 

The  iron  shaft  I  poise  good  fortune  have. 

And  find  its  way  through  grim  Halaesus'  heart ! 

Thy  oak  shall  wear  the  hero's  belt  and  arms." 

Heard  him  the  god ;  and  while  Halaesus  shields 

Imaon,  he  exposes  lucklessly  570 

His  open  breast  to  the  Arcadian's  steel. 

Not  e'en  at  such  a  hero's  death  dismayed, 
Lausus,  himself  a  host,  leaps  from  the  ranks : 
He  lays  low  Abas,  first  to  cross  his  path. 
Who  was  the  knurl  and  bulwark  of  the  fight.  57s 
Down  go  the  Arcadian  youth :  the  Tuscans  fall ; 
Ye  too,  ye  Trojans,  whom  the  Greeks  slew  not. 
The  hosts  together  rush,  nor  either  hath 


328 


THE  .ENEID. 


A  better  captain  or  a  stouter  force. 

The  rear  ranks  press  the  front,  so  thick  the  throng  sSo 

Nor  hand  nor  weapon  can  be  raised :  while  face 

To  face,  here  Pallas  urges  on  the  charge. 

And  Lausus  there  —  not  much  apart  in  years. 

Each  of  a  noble  shape,  yet  each  by  fate 

Denied  e'er  to  return  to  native  land.  s^s 

But  high  Olympus'  king  suffered  them  not 

To  meet ;  their  speedy  fortune  'twas  for  each 

To  fall  beneath  a  mightier  foeman's  steel. 

Meantime  Turnus'  fair  sister  warns  him  fly 
To  Lausus'  aid.    In  his  swift  car  he  cleaves  sgo 
The  battle  ranks.    Soon  as  he  sees  his  friends. 
He  cries  :  "  Now,  bear  ye  from  the  fight.  Alone 
Let  me  on  Pallas  charge;  to  me  alone 
Is  Pallas  due.    I  would  his  father  now 
Were  witness  here."    He  speaks,  and  his  allies  595 
Fall  back  as  bid,  to  give  him  room.    'Tis  then. 
As  part  the  Rutuli,  and  as  the  youth 
In  wonder  lists  to  hear  that  proud  command. 
On  Turnus  he  in  admiration  looks, 
Rolls  o'er  that  mighty  trunk  his  eyes,  yet  dares 
To  face  him  with  defiance  in  his  gaze. 
,  Thus  hurls  he  back  the  challenge  of  the  king : 
"  Now  shall  they  laud  me  for  the  bravest  spoils 
E'er  won,  or  for  a  glorious  death  :  my  sire 
Will  flinch  at  neither  fate.   Give  o'er  thy  threats !  " 
And  as  he*speaks,  into  the  open  space 
He  stalks.    In  each  Arcadian  heart  the  blood 
Clots  cold.    Leaps  Turnus  from  his  two-horse  car, 
And  makes  on  foot  to  meet  him  hand  to  hand : 


BOOK  X. 


As  forth  he  goes,  'tis  as  a  lion  springs 
When  from  some  lofty  height  he  sees  a  bull 
Waiting  to  fight  him  on  the  plain  below. 

Soon  as  he  thought  his  foeman  near  enough 
For  spear  to  hit,  Pallas  was  first  to  strike, 
So  haply  luck  on  daring  might  await,  ^^s 
Though  not  so  stout  the  arm.    Up  to  high  heaven 
He  cried  :  "  I  pray  thee,  Hercules,  as  thou 
Didst  come  a  stranger  to  my  father's  board 
And  wast  his  guest,  help  thou  my  great  emprise ! 
Let  Turnus  in  the  throes  of  death  look  up        '  ^^o 
While  I  bear  off  his  arms  drenched  with  his  gore, 
And  his  filmed  eyes  avow  me  conqueror ! " 
Heard  Hercules  the  youth,  and  in  his  heart 
A  mighty  groan  kept  down  and  wept  in  vain, 
While  Jupiter  did  kindly  speak  him  thus : 
"  Each  mortal  hath  his  day.    The  span  of  life 
For  all  is  short,  and  naught  can  eke  it  out ; 
But  to  eternity  lives  on  the  fame 
Of  valorous  achievement,  and  in  that 
Doth  valor  find  its  charge.  'Neath  Troy's  high  walls  ^30 
The  son  of  many  a  god  did  fall :  nay,  there 
My  own  Sarpedon  lies.    Turnus  as  well 
To  his  own  destiny  shall  yield,  and  reach 
The  allotted  measure  of  his  years."    Thus  spake, 
And  turned  his  eyes  from  the  Rutulian  fields.  ^35 

Then  Pallas  hurled  his  spear  with  mighty  force, 
And  from  its  hollow  sheath  his  gleaming  sword 
Drew  out.    Forth  flew  the  spear  and  struck  atop 
The  plai tings  of  the  shoulder.    There  it  forced 
Its  way  along  the  border  of  the  shield,  640 


\ 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  grazed  at  length  e'en  Turnus'  mighty  frame. 
Then  poising  long  his  shaft  with  its  keen  point 
Of  steel,  Turnus  at  Pallas  drove  it  home 
The  while  he  cried :  "  See,  whether  from  my  hand 
The  weapon  goes  not  surer  to  the  quick."  ^45 

Ay,  ere  he  ceased,  the  quivering  spear  had  struck 
And  pierced  the  centre  of  the  shield,  straight  through 
Its  plates  of  iron  and  of  brass,  through  fold 
On  fold  of  tough  bull's  hide,  straight  through 
The  coat  of  mail,  and  bored  the  massive  breast,  ^so 
In  vain  did  Pallas  pluck  the  hot  spear-head 
From  out  the  gash.    With  it  and  in  its  path 
His  life  and  blood  do  follow  it.    He  falls 
Upon  his  wound,  while  crashing  over  him 
His  armor  rings  ;  in  agony  of  death  ^ss 
He  bites  the  cruel  dust  with  bloody  mouth. 
Above  him  Turnus  stands,  and  shouts  :  "  Bear  ye, 
Arcadians,  to  Evander  nor  forget 
My  message.    Pallas  back,  as  he  deserved, 
I  send.    Whate'er  the  honor  of  a  tomb,  ^ 
What  comfort  there  may  be  in  burial  found, 
I  freely  grant.    But  it  shall  cost  him  dear 
That  he  ^neas  made  his  guest."    While  thus 
He  spake,  with  his  left  foot  the  lifeless  corse 
He  pressed,  and  tore  away  the  belt's  huge  weight, 
Its  boss  of  horror  carved  in  massive  gold  — 
'Twas  rare  Eurytion's  work  —  the  scene,  a  band 
Of  youths  all  on  the  self-same  bridal  night  — 
The  bloody  chambers  there  —  most  foully  slain  ! 
Such  now  the  booty  Turnus  revels  o'er,  670 
Exulting  in  his  spoils.    But  human  heart 


BOOK  X. 


Ne'er  its  own  fate  or  future  lot  forecasts, 

Nor  moderation  keeps,  when  on  the  wave 

Of  fortune.    Yet  shall  Turnus  know  the  hour 

When  he  will  wish  that  Pallas  had  been  spared  ^75 

At  any  price,  and  these  accursed  spoils. 

This  day,  abhor.    Laid  on  a  shield,  with  sobs 

And  tears  his  clustering  friends  bear  Pallas  off. 

Alas,  the  sorrow,  yet  the  glorious  worth. 

Of  such  a  restoration  to  thy  sire  ! 

One  day  to  battle  gives  and  takes  thee  from't : 

Yet  heaps  of  slaughtered  Rutuli  thou  leav'st ! 

Close  on  the  rumor  of  so  dire  a  hap, 
A  special  courier  brings  ^neas  word 
That  his  allies  are  at  destruction's  brink, 
And  that  the  time  has  come  to  lend  his  aid 
To  his  retreating  countrymen.    He  lays 
About  him  with  his  sword,  and  with  it  hews 
A  highway  through  the  foe's  dense  ranks, —  on  fire 
To  find  thee,  Turnus,  while  exulting  yet 
And  flushed  with  slaughter.  Naught  is  in  his  eyes 
Save  Pallas  and  Evander,  whose  right  hands 
First  welcomed  him,  and  to  whose  board  had  he. 
While  yet  a  stranger,  come  a  guest.    He  takes 
Alive  Sulmo's  four  sons  and  Ufens'  four  ^95 
To  sacrifice  to  Pallas'  ghost,  and  drench 
In  captives'  blood  the  flames  of  his  death-pyre. 

He  hurls  his  angry  spear,  while  yet  afar, 
At  Magus  next,  who  deftly  stoops,  lets  skim 
The  whizzing  shaft  above  his  head,  and  thus,  ^^ 
A  suppliant  clinging  to  ^Eneas'  knees. 
Cries  out :  "  I  beg  thee  by  thy  father's  ghost, 


332 


THE  i¥:NEID. 


By  blossoming  lulus'  hopes,  spare  thou 

Unto  a  father  and  a  son  my  life  ! 

A  palace  vast  is  mine.    Deep  buried  in't  70s 

Are  talents  of  carved  silver,  heaps  of  gold 

Wrought  and  unwrought, —  all  mine.    'Tis  not  with  me 

The  victory  of  the  Trojans  is  at  stake  : 

One  life  is  not  enough  to  turn  the  scale." 

Scarce  spake  he  ere  ^neas  answers  back :  710 

"  Keep  for  thy  sons  the  silver  and  the  gold 

Of  which  thou  say'st  thou  hast  so  many  a  heap ! 

Turnus,  in  Pallas'  slaughter,  hath  cut  off 

The  ransomings  of  war.    So  teaches  me 

My  sire  Anchises'  ghost;  so  teaches  me  715 

lulus."    At  the  word,  with  his  left  hand 

He  caught  the  beggar's  helmet,  bending  back 

His  neck,  and  stabbed  him  to  the  very  hilt. 

Came  up  ^monides, —  a  priest  was  he 
Of  Phoebus  and  Diana,  round  whose  head  720 
A  diadem  of  sacred  fillets  ran, 
All  radiant  in  bright  armor  and  attire, 
^neas  met  and  drove  him  o'er  the  plain 
Till  bending  o'er  his  face  he  cut  him  down. 
And  draped  him  'neath  the  mighty  pall  of  death.  72^ 
His  arms  Serestus  shouldered  and  bore  off, 
A  trophy  gathered,  O  king  Mars,  for  thee ! 
But  Caeculus,  who  came  of  Vulcan's  stock. 
And  Umbro,  from  the  Marsian  hills,  renewed 
The  fight,    ^neas  faced  and  made  at  them :  730 
Auxur's  left  hand  he  with  his  sword  had  lopped, 
And  ripped  his  shield's  whole  border  with  his  spear. 
'Twas  he  had  bragged,  and  deemed  that  words  were 
blows ; 


BOOK  X. 


333 


Perchance  he  thought  his  life  was  dear  to  heaven, 
And  counted  on  white  hairs  and  length  of  years.  735 

Then  Tarquitus,  outleaping  from  the  foe, 
His  armor  shining  in  the  sun  —  'twas  he 
Nymph  Dryope  to  Faunus  of  the  woods 
Did  bear  —  the  fury  of  ^neas  dared. 
The  Trojan  chief  drew  back  his  spear  and  made  740 
The  shield  and  mail  of  his  antagonist 
But  to  encumber  him,  and,  even  while 
He  begged  and  would  have  pleaded  more,  struck  off 
His  head  upon  the  earth.    The  steaming  trunk 
He  rolled  in  front  of  him,  and  over  it  74s 
From  out  his  angry  heart  spake  thus  :  "  Lie  there, 
O  thou,  who  wert  so  terrible  to  babes ! 
Thy  dearest  mother  ne'er  shall  bury  thee 
In  earth,  nor  to  thy  father's  sepulchre 
Consign  thy  limbs.    To  savage  birds  shalt  thou  750 
Be  flung  or,  sunk  at  sea,  tossed  with  the  waves 
While  hungry  fishes  feed  upon  thy  wounds." 

Antaeus  next  and  Lycas — Turnus'  chiefs  — 
He  routs  —  brave  Numa  next,  and  next  the  son 
Of  haughty  Volscens,  tawny  Gamers  who  755 
Was  richest  of  Ausonian  landholders. 
King  of  Amyclae's  solitudes.    'Twas  like 
^gaeon  with,  they  say,  his  hundred  arms. 
His  hundred  hands,  his  fifty  blazing  mouths 
And  throats  ;  his  shields  and  swords  as  many  more  760 
Yet  all  alike,  their  roar  e'en  rivalling 
The  thunderbolts  of  Jove.    So  over  all 
The  field,  victorious  still,  ^neas  raged. 
When  once  his  sword  was  hot  with  blood.   He  faced 


334 


THE  ^NEID. 


And  stayed  Nyphseus'  double  yoke  of  horse  765 
That, when  they  saw  him  charging  up  at  them 
And  roaring  like  a  bull,  though  yet  afar, 
In  terror  whirled  upon  their  heels,  threw  out 
Their  chief,  and  dragged  the  car  along  the  shore. 

And  now  into  the  battle,  Lucagus  770 
Bursts  with  his  two-yoke  car  and  snow-white  pair, 
While  at  his  side  his  brother  Liger  stands. 
The  brother  holds  the  reins  and  guides  the  steeds, 
But  the  drawn  sword  bold  Lucagus  doth  wield. 
Their  fury  glows  so  fierce,  ^neas  bears  77S 
It  not,  but  charges  at  them  full  in  front. 
And,  with  his  spear  uplift,  before  them  looms 
In  all  his  grandeur.    Liger  yells  at  him : 
"  'Tis  not  the  steeds  of  Diomed  thou  see'st. 
Nor  chariot  of  Achilles,  nor  the  plains  780 
Of  Phrygia.    Now  to  Italy  be  given 
Surcease  of  war  and  thee  !  "    Such  are  the  taunts 
That  fly  abroad  from  Liger's  frantic  lips. 
The  Trojan  hero  heeds  them  not,  but  hurls 
His  spear  against  his  foe.    'Tis  just  the  nick  78s 
When  Lucagus,  bent  forward  on  the  lash, 
Has  pricked  his  coursers  with  his  javelin 
Just  while,  with  his  left  foot  thrown  forward,  he 
Prepares  him  for  the  fight.    The  spear  goes  in 
Close  at  the  bottom  of  his  glittering  shield  790 
And  thence  his  left  groin  perforates.    He  rolls. 
Shot  from  the  car,  a  dead  man  on  the  field. 
And  reverent  ^neas  curses  him  : 
"  Not,  Lucagus,  the  halting  of  thy  steeds 
Hath  put  thy  chariot  in  my  hands  ;  nor  hath  79S 


BOOK  X. 


335 


A  ghost  made  them  afraid  to  face  the  foe : 

Thyself,  the  wheels  o'erleaping,  hast  thy  car 

Abandoned."    As  he  spake  he  caught  the  steeds. 

The  hapless  brother,  falling  too  from  off 

The  car,  kept  reaching  out  his  nerveless  hands, 

And  cried  :    "  O  Trojan  hero,  by  thyself. 

Ay,  by  the  parents  that  gave  birth  to  one 

So  great,  I  beg  thee  spare  this  life  of  mine ! 

Have  mercy  on  my  prayers  !  "    And  longer  he 

Had  begged,  had  not  ^neas  cut  him  short : 

"  Not  this  the  strain  in  which  thou  spak'st  but  late : 

Now  die  !    A  brother  thou,  thy  brother  ne'er 

Desert !  "    And  with  his  sword  he  ran  him  through, 

And  bared  the  hiding  places  of  his  soul. 

Such  was  the  havoc  that  the  Trojan  chief 
Wrought  on  that  field,  his  fury  like  the  rush 
Of  floods  or  angry  hurricane,  until 
The  boy  Ascanius  and  his  troops,  restrained 
At  length  no  longer,  broke  and  left  their  camp. 

Jove  meantime  tantalizes  Juno  thus  :  ^^5 
"  Sister  at  once  and  dearest  wife  of  mine, 
'Tis  as  thou  thought'st,  thy  judgment  was  not  wrong ; 
'Tis  Venus  gives  the  Trojans  strength.    Not  theirs 
The  valorous  arm  in  war,  the  intrepid  soul. 
The  endurance  under  fire."    She  answers  him 
In  all  humility :   "  Most  beautiful  my  lord, 
Why  taunt  me,  who  am  sick  and  tremble  when 
Thou  speak'st  me  harshly  ?    Had  my  love  the  might 
That  once  it  had  and  once  it  merited, 
Thou  wouldst  not  now.  Almighty  One,  deny  ^25 
Me  this  — power  to  pluck  Turnus  from  the  fight 


33^ 


THE  .ENEID. 


And  for  his  father  Daunus  keep  him  safe. 

Now  must  he  die,  and  with  his  sacred  blood 

Do  penance  to  the  men  of  Troy.    And  yet, 

'Tis  from  the  gods  he  traces  down  his  stock  —  ^30 

The  great-great-grandson  of  Pilumnus  he  — 

And  many  a  time  with  liberal  hand  he  hath 

Thine  altars  laden  down  with  many  a  gift." 

Brief  back  the  king  of  high  Olympus  spake  : 

"  If  for  this  mortal  doomed,  delay  of  death  ^35 

And  but  a  breathing-time  thou  beg'st  me  give, 

Add  wings  to  Turnus'  flight,  and  rescue  him 

From  his  impending  fate.    So  far  I  may 

The  favor  grant.    But  if  beneath  thy  prayers 

Lurk  thought  of  farther  grace,  or  thou  dost  think 

To  altogether  change  the  war's  result, 

Thou  feed'st  on  idle  hopes."    Tears  in  her  eyes. 

Him  Juno  answered :    "  Would  that  in  thy  heart 

Thou  grantedst  what  thy  words  are  loth  to  grant. 

And  that  the  life  of  Turnus  were  assured  !  ^45 

Him  innocent  the  blight  of  death  awaits. 

May  it  not  be  I  am  misled  the  truth  ? 

Would  rather  I  were  mocked  by  idle  fears. 

So  thou,  who  might'st,  would'st  mend  thy  purposes ! " 

No  sooner  said,  than  headlong  from  high  heaven  ^5° 
The  goddess  plunged,  enveloped  in  a  mist, 
Trailing  a  tempest  through  the  air.    She  sought 
The  Latin  camp,  and  —  wonderful  the  sight !  — 
An  unsubstantial  vapor  there  she  clothed 
In  Trojan  armor  like  Eneas'  own.  ^5S 
The  crest  and  buckler  of  that  godlike  chief 
She  counterfeits  ;  she  gives  what  seems  his  voice  — 


BOOK  X. 


337 


An  utterance  'tis  that  hath  no  soul  —  and  types 

Even  his  stride :  so  ghosts  flit  after  death, 

Or  visions  cheat  the  slumber-buried  sense  ! 

Defiantly  upon  the  battle's  edge 

Exults  the  apparition.    Spear  in  hand, 

It  threatens  Turnus,  taunting  him,  till  he 

Makes  at  it,  and  his  whizzing  javelin  hurls 

Ere  coming  to  close  quarters.    But  it  turns 

And  shows  its  back.    Then  Turnus,  feeling  sure 

^neas  flinched  and  fled,  tumultuously 

Gave  way  to  the  illusion,  as  he  cried  : 

"^neas,  why  this  haste  ?    Abandon  not  ^ 

The  chamber  of  thy  bride  !    My  own  right  hand  ^7° 

Shall  give  thee  here  the  land  that  o'er  the  sea 

Thou  cam'st  to  find !  "    So  shouted  he,  and  flashed 

His  naked  sword,  pursuing :  but  saw  not 

His  boasts  were  but  the  plaything  of  the  winds. 

It  happed,  moored  at  the  bottom  of  a  cliff  ^75 
There  lay,  its  ladders  out  and  bridge  all  set, 
The  galley  in  which  king  Osinius  late 
Had  thither  made  a  voyage  from  Clusium's  shores. 
Into  its  hold,  all  panting  from  the  flight, 
Eneas'  shape  did  fling  itself.    As  swift  ^So 
Came  Turnus  up,  o'erleaped  all  obstacles. 
And  sprang  along  the  dizzy  bridge.    But  scarce 
His  foot  had  touched  the  bow,  when  Juno  cut 
The  rope,  and  forced  the  boat  hard  off  the  shore 
And  with  the  ebbing  tide.    And  while  the  real 
yEneas  challenges  his  absent  foe 
To  battle,  and  cuts  many  a  soldier  down. 
His  unsubstantial  counterfeit  scarce  gains 

22 


338 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  galley's  hold,  ere  high  it  flies  again 

And  mingles  with  the  o'erhanging  clouds.  The  wind  8"?° 

Meantime  blows  Turnus  out  to  sea.    He,  blind 

To  circumstance,  and  thankless  at  escape, 

Looks  back,  and  to  the  stars  lifts  up  at  once 

His  voice  and  both  his  palms  :  "  And  hast  thou  thought, 

Almighty  Father,  that  I  merited  ^95 

Indignity  like  this  ?    Is  it  thy  will 

That  I  such  punishment  should  bear  ?    Where  is't 

I  go  ?    Whence  is't  I  drift  ?    What  is  this  flight .? 

And  what  am  I,  when  it  shall  let  me  back 

Shall  I  ne'er  see  again  Laurentum's  walls  9«) 

Or  camp  ?    What  of  that  martial  host,  who  me 

Have  followed  and  my  standard  to  the  war, 

And  all  whom  —  Oh,  dishonor  —  I  have  left 

To  shameless  death!    Now,  now  I  see  them  fly, 

And  hear  their  dying  groans  !    How  can  I  bear't !  905 

Or  where  yawns  hell  enough  to  hide  my  shame ! 

Ye  winds,  I,  Turnus,  plead  from  out  my  heart 

With  you,  rather  do  ye  now  pity  me 

And  'gainst  the  cliff  or  on  the  breakers  dash 

This  boat,  or  shelter  it,  if  that  ye  must,  910 

Amid  the  cruel  quicksands  and  the  shoals 

Where  ne'er  Rutulian  more,  nor  the  report 

Of  such  disgrace  as  mine  shall  follow  me  !  " 

As  thus  he  cries,  he  knows  not  his  own  mind, — 

Whether,  despairing  at  so  foul  a  shame,  91s 

To  fling  himself  upon  his  sword  and  drive 

Its  naked  blade  betwixt  his  ribs,  or  leap 

Into  the  ocean's  midst,  swim  to  the  coast 

Where  it  trends  out,  and  face  the  Trojans'  line 


BOOK  X. 


339 


Once  more.    Thrice  each  endeavor  he  essays  :  920 

Thrice  mighty  Juno  holds  him  back,  and  full 

Of  pity  at  his  grief  restrains  the  youth. 

Parting  the  waves  he  still  glides  on,  with  tide 

And  current  favoring,  till  they  bear  him  home 

Back  to  his  father  Daunus'  ancient  realm.  925 

Meantime  Mezentius,  eager  for  the  fray, 
Pricked  on  by  Jupiter,  renews  the  fight, 
And  charges  the  triumphant  Trojan  host. 
At  this  the  Tuscans  rally  to  a  man  — 
No  thought  in  any  heart  but  hate  of  him  —  930 
And  on  the  warrior  mass  their  fire.    He  stands 
Firm  as  a  rock  that  tops  the  mighty  deep : 
It  faces  to  the  fury  of  the  winds, 
Unshielded  from  the  waves,  enduring  still 
All  heaven  and  ocean's  violence  and  threat,  93s 
Yet  e'er  itself  immovable.    To  earth 
He  smiteth  Hebrus,  Dolichaon's  son, 
And  with  him  Latagus,  and  Palmus  who 
Had  turned  to  fly.    A  stone,  a  mountain  rift, 
He  dashes  in  th^  face  of  Latagus  940 
As  he  comes  up  in  front,  but  Palmus  leaves 
To  roll  disabled  with  a  shattered  knee. 
To  Lausus  he  the  armor  gives,  for  him 
To  fling  across  his  shoulder,  and  the  plumes 
To  fix  upon  his  helm.    Euanthes  then,  94s 
The  Phrygian  chief,  he  slays,  and  Mimas  who 
Was  just  the  age  of  Paris,  and  his  friend : 
One  self-same  night,  to  father  Amycus 
Theano  Mimas  bore,  and  Hecuba 
The  queen,  big  with  a  torch,  gave  Paris  birth.  950 


340 


THE  ^NEID. 


In  his  ancestral  soil  now  Paris  sleeps ; 
Mimas  in  Italy,  his  grave  unknown. 

So,  hunted  by  the  hounds  from  off  the  hills. 
Some  fierce  wild  boar,  that  piny  Vesulus 
Or  the  Laurentian  marsh  for  many  a  year  9S5 
Hath  sheltered,  snared  at  last,  doth  stand  at  bay 
With  angry  grunt,  and  bristling  savagely : 
None  dare  provoke  or  nearer  him  approach, 
But  at  safe  distance,  harry  him  with  yell 
And  spear.    He  the  whole  circuit  fearless  turns,  '960 
Gnashing  his  teeth  and  shaking  from  his  back 
Their  javelins.    So  dares  Mezentius  those 
Whose  wrath  is  just,  though  not  a  man  of  them 
Dare  meet  him  sword  to  sword  but  all  aloof 
Stand  fretting  him  with  missiles  and  loud  taunts.  965 

From  ancient  Corythus  had  Akron  come, 
A  Greek,  and  a  deserter  who  had  left 
His  bride  unwed.    When  saw  Mezentius  him 
With  his  red  plume  and  with  the  martial  cloak 
That  his  betrothed  had  wrought,  while  yet  afar  970 
He  mingled  in  the  middle  of  the  line, 
Twas  like  some  unfed  lion,  hunger-mad. 
That  hovers  near  a  well-fenced  fold,  until 
If  he  hap  see  a  timid  goat  or  stag 
With  towering  horns,  he  turns  to  ecstasy,  975 
His  jaws  wide  open  and  his  mane  on  end, 
And  leaping  on  the  victim  tears  its  flesh. 
Its  warm  blood  trickling  down  his  ravenous  maw. 
So  dashes  on  the  serried  foe  the  fierce 
Mezentius :  Akron  falls,  poor  wretch,  and  ploughs,  980 
A  dying  man,  the  black  earth  with  his  heels,  — 


BOOK  X. 


341 


Wet  with  his  blood  his  yet  unbroken  lance. 

He  will  not  stoop  to  kill  Orodes  while 
He  flies,  or  thrust  a  spear-head  through  his  back, 
But  waits  to  meet  him  face  to  face,  and  fight  985 
As  man  to  man,  relying  not  on  stealth 
But  on  his  stouter  arm.    His  foot  against 
His  prostrate  foe,  he  wrenches  back  his  spear 
And  roars :    "  Here,  warriors,  great  Orodes  lies ; 
No  battle  pigmy  he  ! "    His  soldiers  back  990 
In  chorus  swell  the  triumph  of  his  shout. 
But  he,  the  dying  hero,  answers  thus : 
"  Victor,  whoe'er  thou  art,  not  long  shalt  thou 
Boast  o'er  me  unavenged !    Thee  too,  a  like 
Fate  waits  ;  and  thou  shalt  soon  the  same  dust  bite."  995 
Then  anger  flushed  the  sneer  Mezentius  gave ; 
"  Now  die  ! "  he  cried,  "and  as  for  me,  my  fate 
Is  with  the  Father  of  the  gods  and  King 
Of  men."    So  spake,  and  from  Orodes'  trunk 
Drew  out  the  spear.    The  rest  that  never  ends, 
The  iron  clamp  of  slumber  locked  his  eyes, 
Their  light  extinguished  in  eternal  night. 

Alcathoiis  is  killed  by  Caedicus ; 
Hydaspes  by  Sacrator;  Rapo  lays 
Parthenius  and  the  giant  Orses  low ; 
Messapus  Clonius  kills,  and  after  him 
The  Lycaonian  Ericetes, —  one, 
Met  foot  to  foot  j  the  other,  thrown  by  his 
Unbridled  horse,  and  lying  on  the  ground. 
True  to  ancestral  courage,  Valerus 
Slays  Lycian  Agis  stalking  to  the  front. 
Salius  Athronius  slays  ;  Nealces,  famed 


342 


THE  yENEID. 


For  spear  and  viewless  shaft,  strikes  Salius  down. 

So  far  stern  Mars  to  either  side  deals  death 
And  sorrow  equally.    Alike  they  charge ;  ^o^s 
Alike  they  fall — conquered  and  conquerors  each 
In  turn ;  yet  neither  thinks  of  flight.  Meantime 
Beneath  Jove's  roof,  the  gods  in  pit}^  look 
At  this  waste  fury  of  them  both  —  at  such 
Extravagance  of  mortal  energies. 
Here  Venus  and  Saturnian  Juno  gaze 
E'en  side  by  side :  while  mid  the  myriad  hosts. 
Ghastly  Tisiphone  raves  savagely. 

Shaking  his  mighty  spear,  Mezentius  then 
In  fury  dashes  to  the  front.    As  great  ^^^s 
Orion  stalks  above  the  Ocean's  depths 
And  ploughs  his  way,  his  shoulders  towering  o'er 
The  waves,  or  as  some  ancient  mountain  ash 
Doth  spurn  the  earth  and  hide  its  head  among 
The  clouds,  so  in  his  ponderous  armor  comes  ^°3o 
Mezentius  on.    No  sooner  seen  afar, 
Than  straight  ^neas  makes  to  meet  him.  He 
Stands  fearless,  waiting  for  his  noble  foe, 
In  his  own  might  reposeful.    With  a  glance 
The  intervening  space  he  measures  till  ^°3S 
His  shaft  may  master  it.    "  Now,  my  right  hand," 
He  cries,  "that  art  my  god,  and  thou  the  spear 
I  poise  to  hurl,  be  true !    Lausus,  I  swear, 
Thou  shalt  thyself  Eneas'  trophies  have, 
And  clothe  thee  in  the  spoils  I  strip  from  off  ^°4o 
The  robber's  corse."   And  as  he  speaks,  he  hurls, 
Still  far  away,  his  shrilling  spear.    It  flies. 
But  glances  from  the  shield,  and,  wide  its  mark, 


BOOK  X. 


343 


Pierces  the  brave  Antores'  side  and  guts  :  — 

Antores,  comrade  once  of  Hercules,  ^°4s 

Who,  sent  from  Greece,  Evander  joined,  and  made 

His  home  in  an  Italian  town.    Poor  wretch, 

He  falls  beneath  a  wound  not  meant  for  him, 

Looks  up  to  heaven,  and  dies  remembering  still 

Sweet  Argos.    Then  ^neas,  who  reveres  ^°5o 

The  gods,  his  spear  doth  hurl  :  it  penetrates 

The  hollow  shield,  straight  through  the  triple  folds 

Of  brass,  the  woven  back,  the  plaited  mass 

Of  three  bulls'  hides,  and  settles  in  the  groin : 

But  there  its  force  is  spent.    Quick  as  a  thought,  ^°S5 

Exulting  as  he  sees  the  Tuscan's  blood, 

^neas  snatches  from  his  thigh  his  sword, 

And  hotly  charges  on  his  panting  foe. 

But  Lausus  loved  his  father  —  dear  at  least 
To  him  —  and  at  the  sight  groaned  heavily, 
Tears  running  down  his  face.    Nor  here  —  I  would 
The  world  might  e'er  in  such  heroic  worth 
Keep  fresh  its  faith  —  will  I  in  silence  pass 
Thy  hard  death  by,  or  thy  most  noble  deeds, 
Or  thee,  thou  e'er-to-be-remembered  youth  !  ^o^? 
For,  while  the  father,  crippled,  staggering 
And  hampered  with  his  wound,  was  falling  back. 
Trying  to  wrench  his  adversary's  spear 
From  out  his  shield,  quick  forward  sprang  the  boy 
And  threw  himself  between  the  antagonists. 
He  caught  Eneas'  sword  just  as  he  raised 
His  right  hand  up  to  strike  the  blow,  and  stayed 
And  bore  the  onset  of  Eneas'  self. 
His  men  encourage  him  with  hearty  shouts 


344 


THE  ^NEID. 


While,  covered  by  the  buckler  of  the  son,  ^075 

The  sire  escapes :  they  mass  their  fire  against 

His  foe,  whom  at  safe  distance  they  assail 

With  missiles,  till  ^neas  veils  himself, 

Boiling  with  rage,  behind  his  shield.    'Tis  like 

The  tempest  bursting  in  a  blast  of  hail, 

When  ploughman,  farmer,  traveller,  from  the  fields 

All  fly,  and  'neath  the  nearest  shelter  hide  — 

Be  it  a  river  bank  or  jutting  cliff — 

While  falls  the  rain,  that  when  the  sun  comes  back 

They  may  the  labors  of  the  day  renew.  ^°^s 

So  deluged  on  all  sides  by  bolt  and  spear, 

^neas  bears  alone  the  thundering  storm 

Of  battle,  chiding  Lausus,  threatening  him 

By  turns  :   "  Why  rush  upon  thy  death  ?   Thou  dar'st 

Beyond  thy  strength.    Thy  filial  piety  ^°9o 

Hath  made  thee  reckless."    But  the  other  still 

Foolhardily  comes  on,  until  at  last 

The  Trojan  chief's  grim  vengeance  higher  mounts. 

And  Fate  spins  the  last  thread  of  Lausus'  life. 

For  now  ^neas  with  a  heavy  thrust  ^°95 

Plunges  his  sword  into  the  youth,  and  hides 

It  to  the  hilt.    Right  through  the  brave  boy's  shield 

It  goes,  his  polished  armor,  and  the  shirt 

His  mother  had  embroidered  with  fine  gold, — 

His  breast  all  blood.    Into  the  shades  his  soul, 

Leaving  his  corse,  flits  wailing  through  the  air. 

But  when  Anchises'  son  that  dying  look 
Beheld  —  that  face  so  wonderfully  pale, — 
He  groaned  with  pity  and  held  forth  his  hand, 
His  own  heart  kindling  at  so  fair  a  type  "°s 


BOOK  X. 


345 


Of  filial  love.    "  Poor  boy,  for  such  desert/' 

He  cried,  "  what  honor  worth  thy  excellence 

Can  now  ^neas  —  pious  son  himself  — 

On  thee  bestow !    Keep  thou  the  arms  that  were 

Thy  pride.    I  give  thee,  if  it  be  thy  wish, 

Back  to  the  shades  and  ashes  of  thy  sires ; 

And  luckless  as  thou  art,  it  shall  at  least 

Lighten  the  sadness  of  thy  death  that  thou 

Did'st  fall  by  great  Eneas'  hand."    He  chides 

The  hesitating  comrades  of  the  youth,  "'s 

And  with  his  own  hands  lifts  him  from  the  ground. 

His  Tuscan-plaited  hair  matted  with  blood. 

Meantime  his  father  at  the  Tiber's  brink 
Stanched  with  its  flow  his  wounds,  and  rested  him, 
Reclining  'gainst  a  tree.    Not  far  away,  "2° 
Upon  a  branch  his  brazen  helmet  hangs, 
His  ponderous  armor  lying  on  the  grass. 
His  chosen  warriors  round  him  stand.  Himself 
In  pain  and  out  of  breath,  he  hangs  his  head. 
His  bushy  beard  down-flowing  o'er  his  breast.  "25 
Of  Lausus  o'er  and  o'er  he  asks,  and  sends 
Man  after  man  to  call  him  from  the  fight 
And  bear  the  mandate  of  his  anxious  sire, 
Even  while  Lausus'  comrades,  all  in  tears  — 
That  mighty  frame  felled  by  a  mighty  wound  —  "3o 
Him  there  are  bringing  dead  upon  his  shield. 

The  father's  heart,  foreboding  ill,  had  heard 
The  wail  while  yet  afar.    His  hoary  locks 
He  sullies  with  the  filthy  dust :  to  heaven 
He  stretches  both  his  hands,  and  o'er  the  corse  "3S 
He  hangs.   "  My  son,"  he  cries,  "  hath  love  of  life, 


346 


THE  iENEID. 


"  Possessed  me  so  that  I  could  suffer  thee, 

Flesh  of  my  flesh,  to  bear  for  me  the  brunt 

Of  foeman's  hand  ?    Am  I,  thy  father,  saved 

By  wounds  like  these  —  alive  because  thou  died'st  ?  "4o 

Oh !  in  my  misery  now  is  exile  hard 

At  last !    Deep  now  the  iron  in  my  soul  ! 

'Tis  I,  my  son,  have  stained  thy  name  with  crime, 

In  hatred  hunted  from  my  father's  throne 

And  sceptre.    Whatsoe'er  the  penalty  "^s 

I  owed  my  country  or  my  subjects'  hate, 

Would  I  had  given  them  up  my  guilty  life. 

To  take  it  by  a  thousand  deaths  !    And  I 

Still  live  !  I  quit  not  yet  the  face  of  men. 

The  light  of  heaven!    But  quit  them  now  I  will."  "so 

E'en  as  he  speaks,  upon  his  bleeding  thigh 

He  lifts  him,  though  the  pain  of  his  deep  wound 

Retards  his  step,  and,  still  undaunted,  bids 

Bring  him  his  steed.    His  steed  his  comfort  was, 

His  pride.    On  this  from  all  his  wars  had  he  "ss 

Rid  victor  off.    To  it,  as  if  it  grieved 

With  him,  he  speaks,  and  these  the  words  he  breathes : 

"Long  time  —  if  any  thing  be  long  to  them 

Who  die  —  have  we  together,  Rhoebus,  lived ! 

And  now  to-day  shalt  thou  in  triumph  bear 

The  bloody  trophy  of  Eneas'  head,  — 

With  me  the  avenger  of  my  Lausus'  death  !  — 

Or,  if  no  power  can  that  achieve,  thou  shalt 

Together  with  me  fall ;  for,  bravest  steed 

That  ever  was,  I  wot  thou'd'st  ne'er  endure  "^s 

Another's  rein  or  bear  a  Trojan  lord." 

He  spake  and,  mounting,  sat  his  wonted  seat : 


BOOK  X. 


347 


Both  hands  he  filled  with  javelins  keen  :  his  helm 

Of  brass  gleamed  on  his  head,  while  waved  his  crest 

Of  rough  horse-hair.    And  thus  he  madly  rode  "70 

Into  the  centre  of  the  fight.    A  sense 

Of  bitter  shame  seethes  deep  within  his  heart, 

Of  frenzy  mixed  with  sorrow,  love  inflamed 

To  fury,  courage  certain  of  itself ! 

Thrice  in  stentorian  tones  he  challenges  "7S 

^neas.    Him  ^neas  knows  at  once : 

In  ecstasy  he  prays :  "  So  be  it  then  ! 

The  Father  of  the  gods,  great  Phoebus,  wills 

That  thou  at  last  dar'st  meet  me  hand  to  hand  ! " 

No  more  he  speaks,  but  forward  springs  to  face 

With  deadly  spear  his  foe,  who  answers  back  : 

"  Thou  can'st  not  fright  me,  savagest  of  men, 

Since  thou  hast  slain  my  son.    There  lay  alone 

The  way  where  thou  had'st  power  to  strike  at  me. 

I  fear  not  death.    I  reverence  no  god.  "^s 

Speak  not,  for  I  have  come  to  die  :  but  first 

To  thee  this  gift  I  bear."    And  at  the  word, 

He  hurls  a  spear  at  his  antagonist ; 

Another,  and  another  yet  he  sends. 

Swift  circling  round  his  foeman  well  away.  "9° 

The  golden  shield  wards  all  his  weapons  off. 

Thrice  round  ^neas  thus  Mezentius  rides 

From  right  to  left,  his  weapons  whirling.  Thrice 

The  Trojan  hero  bears  around  with  him 

A  very  forest  in  his  shining  shield,  "95 

Till,  weary  at  the  waste  of  such  good  time, 

So  many  missiles  to  pluck  out,  he  frets 

To  come  to  closer  quarters,  though  it  be 


348, 


THE  ^NEID. 


With  odds  against  him.    Festered  to  the  quick, 

He  breaks  at  last  his  guard,  and  drives  his  spear 

'Twixt  the  deep  temples  of  that  martial  steed. 

It  rears  erect,  beats  with  its  hoofs  the  air, 

Rolls  on  its  tumbling  rider,  pinning  him, 

And  on  his  broken  shoulder  lies  head-down. 

Trojans  and  Latins  fill  the  air  with  yells.  "^s 

^neas  forward  flies,  snatches  his  sword 

From  out  its  sheath,  and  standing  o'er  him  shouts : 

"Where  now  is  bold  Mezentius,  and  his  fierce 

Resistless  might  ?  "   Soon  as  his  breath  comes  back, 

His  consciousness  restored,  the  Tuscan  speaks  :  '^lo 

"Thou  bitter  foe,  why  taunt,  why  threat  the  dead  ! 

My  slaughter  is  no  crime,  nor  to  the  fight 

Came  I  expecting  less  :  in  my  behalf 

My  Lausus  fixed  with  you  no  better  terms. 

T  ask  thee  only  this,  if  any  grace  "^s 

Thou  giv'st  a  conquered  foe  —  grant  thou  my  corse 

Be  buried  in  the  earth.    I  know  how  black 

The  bitter  hatred  of  my  people  is  : 

Spare  me,  I  beg,  their  fury  but  so  much, 

And  lay  me  in  the  grave  beside  my  son."  "20 

This  said,  without  a  tremor  he  the  sword 

Lets  to  his  throat  and  pours  his  life  abroad, 

His  blood  outgushing  with  it  o'er  his  arms. 


Aurora. 
Guido  Reni. 


ELEVENTH  BOOK. 


T  TPSPRINGING  now,  Aurora  ocean  leaves. 

Distraught  with  care  lest  there  be  lack  of  time 
For  burying  his  dead,  heart-sick  at  thought 
Of  Pallas'  death,  ^neas  none  the  less 
At  earliest  dawn  pays  to  the  gods  his  vows  5 
For  victory.    Upon  a  knoll  he  sets 
A  sturdy  oak,  lops  all  its  branches  off. 
And  nails  to  it  the  glittering  armor  stripped 
From  duke  Mezentius  —  spoils  to  thee,  great  Mars! 
Mounts  there  the  warrior's  plumes  still  dewed  with 

blood,  ^° 
His  broken  spears,  his  breast-plate  twelve  times  struck 
And  pierced ;  binds  on  the  left  his  brazen  shield ; 
And  hangs  his  ivory-handled  sword  around 
The  neck.    About  him  massed,  his  whole  staff  throng, 
Encircling  him.    They  listening  joyfully, 
Thus  he  inspires  them  as  he  speaks  :    "  My  chiefs. 
The  pinch  is  past.    Away  all  fear !    What  else 
Is  left  ?    Here  are  the  spoils  of  this  proud  king,  — 
Our  victory's  first  fruits.    By  my  hand  struck, 
Here  lies  Mezentius.    Now  our  way  is  clear  20 
Unto  the  Latin  city  and  its  king. 
Array  your  arms,  and  in  your  hearts  and  hopes 
Anticipate  the  fight.    Let  no  delay 
Impede  the  lagging  step,  or  thought  of  fear 
Clog  sloth  the  more,  when  once  the  gods  make  sign 


35° 


THE  ^NEID. 


To  pluck  our  standards  up  and  from  our  camp 
Lead  on  our  troops.    Meantime  let  us  to  earth 
Commit  the  unburied  bodies  of  our  friends ; 
Else  is  no  passport  theirs  'neath  Acheron. 
Haste  ye,"  he  cried  ;  "  With  the  last  obsequies  30 
Honor  the  noble  souls  who  have  preserved 
Their  country  with  their  blood.    Let  Pallas  first, 
Whom  full  of  excellence  a  sorry  day 
Took  off  and  whelmed  in  bitterness  of  death. 
Back  to  Evander's  mourning  realm  be  sent."  35 
So  speaks  and  weeps ;  then  to  the  threshold  turns, 
Where  old  Acoetes  guards  dead  Pallas'  corse. 
Stretched  on  its  bier.    He  in  Arcadia  had 
Evander's  armor-bearer  been  lang  syne. 
Far  sadder  now  the  auspices  'neath  which,  40 
The  appointed  friend  of  his  loved  foster-child, 
He  here  had  come.    All  round  him  throng  a  host 
Of  slaves,  a  crowd  of  Trojans  and,  their  sad 
Hair  streaming  as  their  wont  is,  the  Ilian  dames. 
So  when  JEnea.s  through  the  lofty  doors  45 
Comes  in,  they  beat  their  breasts,  and  to  the  stars 
Lift  up  a  loud  lament,  till  with  their  wail 
The  palace  echoes.    He  no  sooner  sees 
The  uplifted  head  and  face  of  Pallas  white 
As  snow,  and  on  his  fair  young  breast  laid  bare  5° 
The  gash  of  the  Italian's  spear,  than  thus, 
Tears  streaming  fast,  he  cries  :  "  Unhappy  boy. 
Could  fortune  come  so  kind,  yet  grudge  me  thee  ? 
Shalt  thou  ne'er  see  my  kingdom,  nor  be  borne 
Hence  to  thy  father's  roof  a  victor  back  !  ss 
Not  this  the  pledge  that  I,  departing,  gave 


BOOK  XI. 


35' 


Thy  sire  Evander,  when  from  his  embrace 
He  sent  me  forth  to  win  a  mighty  realm, 
And,  fearing  for  my  safety,  cautioned  me 
The  men  were  fierce  I  went  to  meet,  the  fight  ^° 
Was  with  a  stubborn  race.    It  may  be  now, 
Deluded  overmuch  with  idle  hopes, 
.  He  offers  vows,  and  altars  heaps  with  gifts, 
And  we,  with  honors  that  can  naught  avail. 
Watch  sadly  the  dead  body  of  his  boy 
Who  to  the  gods  of  life  now  nothing  owes. 
Whilst  thou,  unhappy  sire,  hast  naught  in  store 
But  to  behold  thy  boy's  disfigured  corse  ! 
And  this  is  my  return  to  him,  this  his 
Anticipated  triumph,  this  my  word  70 
I  vaunted  so !    But  thou,  Evander,  shalt 
Not  look  upon  a  son  mangled  with  wounds 
That  cast  disgrace  ;  nor  shall  thy  father's  pride 
Wish  he,  a  coward  and  alive,  were  dead. 
Ah  me,  how  stout  a  bulwark,  Italy,  75 
Hast  thou,  and  thou,  lulus,  lost  in  him  ! " 

Lamenting  thus,  he  bids  them  tenderly 
Lift  up  the  dead.    He  sends,  picked  from  his  host, 
A  thousand  men  the  last  sad  rites  to  pay. 
And  mingle  with  the  father's  tears  their  own, — 
Slight  solace  though  it  be  for  grief  so  great. 
Yet  due  that  father's  grief.    They  quickly  weave 
A  frame  and  easy  bier  with  arbute  boughs 
And  withes  of  oak,  and  shade  the  upraised  couch 
Beneath  a  canopy  of  leaves.    Uplift  ss 
Upon  this  rustic  leafy  bed,  they  lay 
The  youth,  fair  as  a  flower  that  maiden's  hand 


352 


THE  i^lNEID. 


Breaks  from  its  stem,  —  some  tender  violet, 

Or  drooping  hyacinth,  not  yet  its  bloom 

Or  perfect  outline  gone,  though  now  no  more  90 

The  mother  earth  doth  feed  or  give  it  life. 

Then  forth  two  robes,  with  gilt  and  purple  stiff, 
^neas  brings.    But  late,  with  her  own  hands, 
Sidonian  Dido,  happy  in  the  task, 
Had  woven  them,  and  wrought  with  golden  threads  9S 
The  web.    One  sadly  o'er  the  youth  he  throws, 
His  parting  gift,  and  veils  beneath  its  folds 
The  locks  so  soon  to  light  the  funeral  pile. 
Many  a  prize  from  out  Laurentum's  fight 
He  heaps,  and  bids  the  long  line  of  the  spoils 
Move  on.    Horses  and  spears  he  adds,  of  which 
He  had  despoiled  the  foe.    He  too  had  bound 
Behind  their  backs  the  prisoners'  hands,  whom  he 
Did  send  as  sacrifices  to  the  death. 
Soon  with  their  blood  outspilt  to  sprinkle  all 
The  funeral  flames.    At  his  command  tree-trunks. 
In  foemen's  armor  clad,  with  foemen's  names 
Attached,  are  carried  by  the  chiefs.  Infirm 
With  age,  poor  old  Acoetes  is  led  forth. 
Now  beating  with  his  fists  upon  his  breasts, 
And  now  his  face  disfiguring  with  his  nails. 
He  falls  at  full  length  stretched  upon  the  ground. 
Next  Pallas'  car,  stained  with  Rutulian  blood. 
They  bring,  —  his  war-horse,  ^thon,  following  it, 
Stripped  of  his  trappings,  and  in  tears  that  rain  "5 
In  great  drops  down  his  cheeks.    And  others  bring 
His  helm  and  sword :  —  victorious  Turnus  hath 
The  rest.    The  funeral  escort  follow  next, 


BOOK  XI. 


353 


The  Trojan  and  the  Tuscan  chiefs,  and  then, 

Their  arms  reversed,  the  Arcadian  soldiery.  "o 

Far  on  its  way  has  moved  the  whole  long  line 

Of  his  companions;  but  ^neas  stays, 

And  with  a  heavy  sob  cries  after  them : 

"  War's  horrors,  e'er  the  same,  summon  me  hence 

To  other  tears.    Forevermore  farewell, 

My  noblest  Pallas,  evermore  farewell !  " 

He  says  no  more,  but  to  the  lofty  walls 

Turns  back,  and  wends  his  pathway  to  the  camp. 

Meantime,  their  brows  enwreathed  with  olive  leaves, 
Came  from  the  Latin  city  deputies,  ^30 
Begging  him  restoration  of  the  slain 
Whose  bodies  strewed  the  battle  field,  and  leave 
To  bury  them.    No  quarrel  sure,  said  they. 
Had  he  with  the  defeated  or  the  dead. 
But  would  forbear  a  race  whose  guest  he  once  ^35 
Had  been,  and  to  the  daughter  of  whose  king 
He  was  betrothed.    Not  such  the  prayer  to  be 
Despised,  and  good  ^neas  grants  the  boon 
As  soon  as  asked,  and  with  it  adds :    "Ye  men 
Of  Latium,  what  unworthy  fortune  is't  mo 
That  in  so  grim  a  war  hath  you  involved 
Who  should  not  turn  from  us,  your  friends,  away  ? 
Truce  for  the  dead  and  whom  the  lot  of  war 
Hath  taken  off,  ye  ask  me.    Ah,  but  I 
Would  to  the  living  grant  it  gladlier  still. 
I  had  not  hither  come,  had  not  the  fates  , 
This  spot,  this  settlement  assigned.    Nor  wage 
I  with  your  people  war.    It  is  your  king 
Hath  broken  faith  with  me,  and  hath  preferred 
23 


354 


THE  ^NEID. 


His  fortune  to  entrust  to  Turnus'  arms.  »so 
Better  for  him,  had  Turnus  met  his  death ! 
Whom,  were  he  resolute  to  end  the  war, 
And  drive  the  Trojans  off,  it  did  behoove 
To  encounter  me  with  weapons  such  as  these. 
For  then  had  he  survived  whose  life  the  gods  ^ss 
And  his  own  good  right  hand  had  kept.    Go  now. 
And  burn  the  bodies  of  your  wretched  dead." 

So  spake  ^neas.    They,  bewildered,  mute, 
And  staring  in  each  other's  faces,  stand, 
Till  Drances,  oldest  of  the  group  and  e'er  ^^o 
With  hate  and  charges  'gainst  young  Turnus  rank, 
Beginning  thus  replies  :    "  Mighty  in  fame. 
But  mightier  thou,  O  man  of  Troy,  in  arms. 
With  what  laudations  shall  I  lift  thy  name 
To  heaven  ?    Shall  I  admire  thy  justice  more, 
Or  thy  exploits  in  war  ?    Indeed  will  we 
With  gratitude  bear  back  the  words  thou  speak'st 
Unto  our  native  town,  and  make  a  league. 
If  fortune  will  but  show  the  way,  'twixt  thee 
And  king  Latinus.    Then  let  Turnus  find 
His  own  alliances.    Our  joy  shall  be 
To  raise  the  destined  columns  of  thy  realm 
And  put  our  shoulders  to  the  Trojan  walls." 
He  speaks,  and  with  one  voice  the  rest  confirm 
His  words.    A  twelve  days  truce  they  make ;  and  all  ^75 
That  intervening  time  of  peace,  amid 
The  woods,  and  o'er  the  hills,  securely  stroll 
Trojans  and  Latins  side  by  side.    The  axe 
Is  heard  that  fells  the  ash.    Pines  they  upturn 
That  reach  the  stars :  and  ceaselessly  they  rift 


BOOK  XL 


355 


Logs  of  the  fragrant  cedar,  and  with  ash 
Load  down  their  wagons  till  they  groan  again. 

Already  to  Evander  and  his  home 
And  realm  hath  rumor  flown  —  the  harbinger 
Of  misery  so  keen  —  and  filled  the  ears  '^s 
In  which  it  but  a  day  ago  announced 
That  Pallas  victor  now  in  Latium  was. 
The  Arcadians  sally  to  their  gates,  and  raise 
Funereal  torches  in  their  ancient  wont : 
The  way  is  lit  with  one  long  line  of  light 
That  far  and  wide  illuminates  the  fields. 
The  Trojan  phalanx  meeting  them,  in  one 
The  sorrowing  columns  flow.    As  they  approach 
The  walls,  the  women,  when  they  see  them,  fill 
The  city  with  their  cries  of  grief.    No  power  ^95 
Can  keep  Evander  back.    Into  their  midst 
He  comes.    The  bier  let  down,  on  Pallas'  corse 
He  falls  and,  weeping,  moaning,  clings  to  it. 
While  grief  scarce  lets  his  voice  have  way  at  last : 

"  Not  this  the  pledge,  thou,  Pallas,  gav'st  thy  sire,  200 
That  thou  would 'st  bear  thee  cautiously  amid 
The  perils  of  the  fight.    And  yet  I  knew 
How  sharp  a  young  man's  thirst  for  battle  fame, — 
How  /keen  the  thrill  of  his  first  pass  at  arms ! 
Oh,  sad  first  fruit  of  budding  youth !    Oh,  hard  20$ 
Beginnings  of  intestine  war !  No  god 
To  hear  my  vows  or  listen  to  my  prayers ! 
Thou  too,  my  sainted  wife,  happy  art  thou, 
Dead  and  ne'er  spared  for  such  a  grief  as  this. 
While  I  have  over-lived  my  time  for  naught  2x0 
But  to  be  left  a  sire  and  have  no  son  ! 


356 


THE  ^NEID. 


Would  the  Rutulian  steel  had  stricken  me, 
Troy's  follower  and  ally,  instead  of  him  !  — 
That  I  my  life  had  given !    Would  that  this  pomp 
Were  bringing  me,  not  Pallas,  home  !  Yet  ne'er  215 
Will  I  repent  me,  Trojans,  of  our  league, 
Or  that  we  clasped  in  hospitality 
Your  hands  in  ours.    It  was  the  destined  lot 
Of  my  old  age.    Though  in  the  bud  cut  off, 
I  love  to  think  it  was  not  till  my  boy 
Led  on  the  Trojan  charge  'gainst  Latium 's  ranks 
O'er  thousands  of  the  Volscian  dead.    Nor  could 
I,  Pallas,  honor  thee  with  apter  rites 
Than  good  ^neas  and  these  Trojan  lords. 
Our  Tuscan  chiefs  and  all  the  Tuscan  host  225 
Have  paid.    The  glorious  trophies  thy  right  hand 
Stripped  from  the  foes  it  slew,  they  hither  bring. 
And,  Turnus,  had  his  age  been  equal  thine, 
And  his  the  same  maturity  of  years, 
'Tis  thy  huge  corse  that  in  its  armor  now  230 
Would  lie !    But  why  do  I,  poor  wretch,  still  keep 
The  Trojans  from  the  fight?    Go  ye  and  tell 
Your  king —  forget  it  not  —  I  say  to  him  : 
'  If  still  I  live  who,  Pallas  dead,  yet  loathe 
'  To  live,  'tis  for  the  debt  of  Turnus'  life,         >  23* 
'  Which,  as  thou  knowest  well,  thy  good  right  hand 
'  Owes  as  the  due  of  father  and  of  son. 
*  This  duty  done,  thou  and  thy  fortune  lack 
'  Naught  else.    Living,  no  recompense  or  joy 
'  I  ask,  — only  that,  passing  to  the  shades,  »*» 
'  I  tell  my  son  that  Turnus  bites  the  dust.'  " 
Broad  o'er  this  world  of  woe  the  morning  sun 


BOOK  XI. 


357 


Had  flung  its  blessed  light,  renewing  toil 

And  care.    Already  on  the  winding  strand 

Father  ^neas  — Tarchon  too  —  had  raised  ^45 

Their  pyres.    After  the  manner  of  his  kin, 

Each  hither  brought  the  bodies  of  his  dead. 

The  lurid  flames  were  lighted  underneath, 

And  heaven's  high  arch  enveloped  black  with  smoke. 

Thrice  round  the  blazing  stacks  they  ran,  begirt  ^so 

With  glittering  arms  :  thrice,  mounted  on  their  steeds. 

They  rode  around  the  sad  funereal  fires 

And  howled  aloud.  The  earth  was  drenched,  their  arms 

Were  drenched  with  tears,  and  high  as  heaven  rose  up 

The  mourners'  cries,  the  trumpets'  clangor.   Then,  ^ss 

While  some  the  flames  were  feeding  with  the  spoils 

Stripped  from  the  Latin  slain — embellished  swords, 

Helmets  and  bridles  and  swift-whirling  wheels,  — 

Others  threw  in  their  more  familiar  gifts, 

Shields  of  their  own  and  weapons  that  missed  aim.  26c 

There  too,  to  Death  they  slaughtered  many  an  ox. 

Over  the  blaze  the  throats  of  bristling  hogs 

And  sheep,  stolen  from  all  the  fields,  they  cut. 

Far  down  the  shore  they  watched  their  comrades  burn, 

Guarding  the  embers  of  the  pyres,  nor  could 

They  tear  themselves  away,  till  dewy  Night 

Rolled  out  the  starry  jewels  of  the  sky. 

Nor  less  elsewhere  the  wretched  Latins  raise 
Pyres  without  number.    Many  of  the  dead 
They  bury  in  the  earth ;  some  they  bear  off  270 
To  neighboring  fields,  or  to  the  town  send  back ; 
The  rest,  —  an  undistinguishable,  great, 
Uncounted  and  unhonored  heap  of  slain,  — 


358 


THE  i^lNEID. 


They  burn.    On  every  hand,  flames  everywhere, 
Vie  the  illuminations  of  the  wide  27s 
Extending  plains.    But  when  the  third  dawn  parts 
The  chilly  shades  from  heaven,  though  still  they  mourn, 
The  ash-heaps  and  the  powder  of  the  bones 
They  sweep  into  the  hearths,  and  o'er  them  throw 
The  warm  embankment  of  the  heated  earth.  280 

But  all  . this  while  'tis  in  their  very  homes  — 
In  powerful  Latinus'  city  walls  — 
That  chiefest  is  the  din,  and  the  lament 
Longest  and  loudest.    Mothers  there,  and  young 
Brides  broken-hearted,  tender  grieving  souls  285 
Of  sisters,  boys  just  orphaned  of  their  sires, 
All  execrate  the  horrors  of  the  war 
And  Turnus'  spousal  to  Lavinia's  hand. 
Let  him,  let  him,  they  cry,  to  his  own  sword 
And  to  the  ordeal  of  battle  make  appeal,  290 
If  he  the  sovereignty  of  Italy 
And  its  high  honors  for  himself  demand. 
Stern  Drances  feeds  the  flame,  and  heralds  that 
^neas  hath  to  single  combat  bade 
And  challenged  Turnus.    Yet,  so  differ  they, 
The  sentiment  for  Turnus  still  is  strong. 
The  shadow  of  the  queen's  authority 
Is  great :  the  warrior's  glorious  repute, 
His  hard-earned  trophies  stand  him  in  good  stead. 

Amid  this  stir,  the  uproar  at  its  height,  300 
Lo  !  added  to  the  rest,  from  Diomed's 
Great  town,  the  disappointed  deputies 
Bring  word  that  all  their  labor  and  their  pains 
Have  naught  achieved ;  their  gifts,  their  gold,  their 
prayers 


BOOK  XL 


359 


From  him  no  answer  got,  save  that  for  arms  305 

Other  than  his  the  Latins  needs  must  look, 

Or  with  the  Trojan  king  must  make  their  peace. 

At  this,  is  king  Latinus  overwhelmed 
With  utter  misery.    The  wrath  of  Heaven, 
The  new  graves  e'er  before  his  eyes,  warn  him  310 
How  manifestly  providence  divine 
Doth  lead  ^neas  on.    And  seeing  this, 
Within  his  stately  courts  he  calls  the  first 
Lords  of  his  realm,  summoned  at  his  command 
To  solemn  council.    They  together  come  315 
And,  rushing  in,  fill  up  the  royal  halls. 
First  in  authority  and  first  in  years, 
Latinus  in  the  centre  sits,  a  cloud 
Upon  his  brow,  and  bids  the  deputies, 
Returned  from  the  ^tolian  town,  announce  320 
The  answers  they  have  brought,  requiring  them 
Report  these  word  for  word  from  first  to  last. 

Then  silent  every  tongue,  thus  Venulus, 
Obeying  him,  opens  his  mouth  and  speaks : 
"  We,  fellow  citizens,  saw  Diomed  32J 
And  his  Greek  battlements,  all  obstacles 
O'ercame,  pursued  our  journey  to  the  end. 
And  touched  the  hand  that  crushed  the  Trojan  realm. 
There  in  Apulia  'neath  Garganus'  top 
The  conqueror  was  building  up  the  town  330 
Named,  for  his  native  land,  Argyripa. 
Soon  as  we  entered  in  and  audience  us 
Was  granted,  we  before  him  spread  our  gifts, 
Made  known  our  nationality  and  names, 
And  told  him  who  were  waging  war  on  us,  33! 


360 


THE  iENEID. 


And  what  the  cause  that  took  us  to  his  gates. 
He  heard  us  and  responded  kindly  thus : 

" '  Oh  happy  race  !    Realm  of  the  golden  age 
And  old  Ausonia  yours,  what  fortune  is't 
Disturbs  your  peace  and  drives  you  to  the  fret  340 
Of  war's  uncertainty  ?    Whoe'er  we  are, 
Who  with  the  sword  insulted  Ilium's  fields  — 
Let  go  the  chiefs  who  'neath  its  stately  walls 
In  battle  fell,  or  whom  the  Simois  drowned  — 
Grim  vengeance  hath  pursued  us  round  the  world :  34s 
There  is  no  penalty  for  crime,  we  have 
Not  paid.    E'en  Priam's  self  would  pity  us. 
Minerva's  stormy  star,  Eubara's  cliffs, 
Caphereus'  vengeful  summit  know  us  all. 
From  that  campaign,  hunted  from  shore  to  shore,  35° 
The  son  of  Atreus,  Menelaus,  strayed 
An  exile  e'en  to  Proteus'  columns  driven. 
Ulysses'  eyes  on  Etna's  Cyclops  gazed. 
Need  I  refer  to  Pyrrhus'  realm ;  or  tell 
How  his  own  hearth  drove  forth  Idomeneus  ?  35s 
Dwell  not  the  Locri  on  the  Afric  shore  ? 
Nay,  chief  of  all  that  mighty  Grecian  host, 
Crossing  his  threshold  Agamemnon  fell 
Beneath  the  hand  of  his  dishonored  spouse 
Whose  paramour  entrapped  the  conqueror  360 
Of  Asia.    For  myself,  the  gods  forbade 
I  should  to  native  land  return,  or  see 
My  sweet  wife  more,  or  lovely  Calydon. 
And  still  portents  pursue,  too  horrible 
For  sight :  my  lost  companions,  turned  to  birds,  36j 
Cleave  on  their  wings  the  air ;  along  the  streams 


BOOK  XL 


361 


They  wander,  and  —  alas,  that  friends  of  mine 

Should  suffer  so  !  —  their  melancholy  cries 

Echo  from  cliff  to  cliff.    Yet  well  I  knew 

All  this  awaited  me  e'er  since  the  day  370 

When,  mad,  I  at  celestial  shapes  did  thrust 

My  sword,  and  with  a  cut  dared  desecrate 

The  hand  of  Venus.    Urge  not  me,  indeed, 

Not  me  to  such  a  war  as  yours.    I  have 

No  quarrel  with  the  Trojans  since  the  sack  375 

Of  Troy.    It  brings  no  pleasure  to  recall 

The  sorrows  of  the  past.    Bear  back  the  gifts 

That  ye  have  brought  me  from  your  native  shores, 

And  give  them  to  ^neas.    I  have  faced 

His  angry  spear  and  fought  him  hand  to  hand.  380 

Believe  ye  one  who  saw  how  mightily 

He  rises  on  his  shield,  how  like  the  blast 

He  hurls  a  spear.    Two  such  had  Ida  borne, 

Troy  would  have  marched  on  Greece  and,  fate  reversed, 

'Tis  Argos  that  would  be  the  mourner  now.  385 

Long  as  the  sturdy  walls  of  Troy  withstood 

The  attack,  'twas  Hector's  and  Eneas'  blows 

Stayed  the  Greeks'  victory,  and  for  ten  long  years 

Delayed  it  r  both  were  mighty  spirits,  both 

Great  warriors,  unsurpassed  in  battle  fame  —  390 

But  finer  was  Eneas'  moral  sense. 

Make  peace  with  him  whate'er  his  terms ;  but  have 

A  care,  if  to  the  tug  of  war  it  comes  !  ' 

"This  was  king's  reply,  most  gracious  king  : 
Thou  hearest  what  he  thinks  of  this  great  war."  395 

They  scarce  had  finished,  ere  from  trembling  lip 
To  lip  through  that  Ausonian  throng  there  ran 


The  muttering  of  --i  '.y    .  ^ike 
The  roar  that  rise-.  '     ; '        :  ------ 

Is  dammed  with  rc  :  ■:  i      _    :     - : :       .  i  . 
Its  angry  ripples  beating  at   '  :    ; :  ks. 
Quiet  restored,  their  chatty '  i :  ^  - :  •  - 
Invoked  the  go^,  ^.^A  fr-."  -     :  -  -  -  ;     :  -  : 
"I  would  —  and  .    :       -      -  ;  ;  - 

0  Latins  —  tr.at  we  long  ago  ha': 

The  state  secure,  rather  than  in  an  hour 

Like  this  be  parleying,  while  the  enemy 

Is  closing  round  our  walls.    We,  citizens, 

x\n  ill-starred  fight  are  waging  with  a  race 

WTio  spring  from  gods — with  men  invinoWe  4» 

Whom  war  exhausts  not,  nor  defeat  itself 

Can  sicken  of  the  sword.    If  ye  had  hope 

To  link  your  arms  with  Diomed^  that  now 

Give  o^er.    Except  as  eadi  man  for  himsdf.  . 

There  is  no  hope — how  poor  that  hope,  ye  see. 

As  for  augfat  else, — brfore  your  very  eyes, 

In  your  own  hands,  all  is  paralysis. 

1  blame  no  man.    What  valor's  best  can  do 
Hath  all  been  done,  and  we  hare  ^aa^A  with  not 

A  nerve  in  all  tiie  realm  mistrained.    Bat  now  <*• 

Let  me,  though  still  in  doabt,  speak  oat  mj  mind. 

Give  ear,  and  I  will  pot  it  in  few  words : 

There  is  an  andent  tract  of  land,  'twixt  which 

And  me  the  T^ber  flows :  westward  it  runs 

Beyond  the  boundaries  of  Sicania  on :  « 

The  Aurunci  till  it,  and  the  RntoH : 

They  break  its  rugged  hillsides  wMi  the  jHoa^ 

And  where  too  rough  for  that,  diere  feed  their  flodc& 


BOOK  XI. 


363 


Let  all  this  region,  with  its  forest-stretch 

Of  mountain-pine,  be  to  the  Trojans  given  430 

As  pledge  of  peace :  let  us  propose  fair  terms 

Of  league,  and  to  our  realm  make  them  allies  : 

There  let  them  settle,  if  they  so  desire. 

And  there  the  walls  of  their  own  cities  build. 

But  if  it  be  their  pleasure  to  secure  43s 

Some  other  vicinage,  some  other  land, 

We  will  construct  them  twenty  boats  of  good 

Italian  wood,  or  more  if  they  can  more 

Employ.    Material  lies  abundant  here 

Upon  our  shores.    They  may  themselves  prescribe  44a 

The  number  and  the  model  of  the  craft ; 

And  we  the  labor,  brass,  and  naval  stores 

Will  furnish.    More  than  that,  shall  go,  to  bear 

This  our  proposal  and  to  fix  the  league, 

A  hundred  deputies  of  the  best  blood  445 

In  Latium,  holding  in  their  hands  outstretched 

The  olive  branch  of  peace,  and  bearing  gifts  — 

Talents  of  gold  and  ivory,  the  curule  chair 

And  toga,  the  insignia  of  our  realm. 

Think  well  meanwhile,  and  help  me  bear  my  load."  4So 

Then  Drances  spake  :  relentless  still,  he  masked 
His  envy,  though  he  chafed,  stung  to  the  quick 
At  Turnus'  fame.    His  wealth  was  large,  his  tongue 
Of  rare  persuasiveness,  but  for  the  sword 
Ne'er  itched  his  fingers ;  his  authority  45s 
Weighed  at  the  council  board,  and  of  intrigue 
He  was  a  master.    On  his  mother's  side 
Proud  lineage  of  noble  blood  he  had  : 
But  who  his  father  was,  nobody  knew. 


3^4 


THE  iENEID. 


He  rose,  and  thus  did  fan  and  feed  the  flame.  460 

"  O  good  king,  thou  hast  urged  a  matter  here, 
So  patent  to  us  all  it  needed  not 
That  thou  should'st  give  it  voice.    No  man  is  there 
But  in  his  heart  well  knows  what  'tis  the  state 
Demands,  yet  fears  to  speak.    Let  therefore  him  4^5 
Give  liberty  of  speech  and  lay  aside 
His  arrogance,  whose  vicious  leadership 
And  blundering  methods  —  nay,  but  I  will  speak. 
Though  he  do  threat  me  with  the  sword  and  death  — 
Have  sacrificed,  as  our  own  eyes  have  seen,  470 
So  many  of  our  shining  lights  in  war. 
And  humbled  all  our  city  in  the  dust, 
While  he,  coquetting  with  the  Trojan  camp. 
Looking  to  flight  for  safety,  terrifies 
Naught  but  the  breezes  with  his  spear.    One  thing  475 
Thou  should'st  add  more,  among  the  many  gifts 
Thou  bid'st  be  set  apart  and  forwarded 
The  Trojan  chief  —  one  thing,  O  best  of  kings! 
Let  no  man's  menace  keep  thee  longer,  sire. 
From  giving  now  thy  daughter  to  a  son  480 
So  eminent,  —  a  marriage  that  will  bring 
Such  honor ;  or  from  making  that  the  bond 
Of  an  eternal  peace.    Yet  if  it  be 
That  Turnus  hath  such  terror  for  your  soul 
And  o'er  your  reason,  let  us  to  his  grace  48s 
Appeal,  and  ask  of  him  the  boon  that  he 
Give  way,  and  to  his  country  and  his  king 
Restore  their  own.    Oh,  head  and  spring  of  all 
The  woes  of  Latium  !  why  so  many  times 
Dost  thou  expose  thy  wretched  countrymen  490 


BOOK  XI. 


To  sure  disaster  ?    Not  in  war  is  our 

Reliance.    Peace  it  is  that,  to  a  man, 

We,  Turnus,  at  thy  hands  demand,  and  ask 

Meantime  the  one  sure  guaranty  of  peace. 

And  I,  who  thou  pretendest  am  thy  foe  —  495 

Nor  care  I  if  I  be  —  am  first  to  come 

Lo  !  as  thy  suppUant.    Yea,  have  mercy  thou 

Upon  thy  countrymen !  swallow  thy  pride, 

And,  beaten,  from  the  field  depart !  Enough 

Of  rout  and  slaughter  have  we  seen  ;  enough  500 

Of  desolation  brought  on  our  fair  land  ! 

Or,  if  ambition  pricks,  —  if  in  thy  breast 

Thou  hast  the  daring,  —  if  thou  hast  so  much 

At  heart  a  royal  dowry,  then  pluck  up 

And  boldly  meet  thy  rival  face  to  face  !  sos 

For  sure  it  cannot  be  that  we,  whose  lives 

Are  cheap,  a  mass  unworthy  burial  e'en 

Or  tears,  should  strew  the  fields,  so  Turnus  here 

May  wive  him  with  the  daughter  of  a  king. 

Ay  now,  if  aught  of  manliness  thou  hast,  sio 

Aught  of  the  Italian  soldier's  martial  fire. 

Do  thou  confront  the  man  who  dares  thee  fight !  " 

Flames  Turnus  raging  hot  at  such  a  charge. 
He  groans,  and  the  words  burst  from  his  very  heart : 
"  Ay,  Drances,  thou  hast  never  lack  of  words,  s^s 
When  war  demands  not  words  but  blows.    But  call 
The  lawyers  in,  and  thou  art  first  to  come ! 
This  is  no  place  to  inundate  with  talk, 
That  always  flows  so  easily  from  thee 
When  out  of  danger's  way,  or  when  the  walls  520 
Fend  off  the  foe,  nor  ditches  swim  with  blood. 


366 


THE  ^NEID. 


So  thunder  forth  thy  eloquence  as  thou 

Art  wont !    Thou,  Drances,  chargest  me  with  fear ! 

Well  said,  since  thy  right  hand  hath  piled  so  high 

The  heaps  of  Trojan  slain,  and  everywhere 

With  trophies  glorified  the  land  !    Thou  can'st 

Now  prove  what  valor,  hot  as  thine,  can  do. 

We  have  not  far  indeed  to  seek  the  foe. 

On  every  side  they  swarm  about  our  walls. 

Shall  we  upon  them  charge  ?    What,  hesitate  ? 

That  martial  ardor,  shall  it  always  fill 

Only  that  windy  tongue  of  thine,  — those  legs 

So  swift  to  run  ?    I  beaten  from  the  field  ! 

Foulest  of  mouths,  is  there  an  honest  man 

Will  say  that  I  was  beaten  from  the  field,  sss 

Who  saw  the  Tiber  swell  with  Trojan  blood, 

Evander's  household  and  his  son  laid  low, 

And  the  Arcadians  of  their  armor  stripped  ? 

Not  such  the  finding  of  great  Pandarus 

Or  Bitias,  or  the  thousands  whom  to  hell  54a 

I  sent  that  day  when  I,  shut  in  their  walls 

And  hedged  within  the  ramparts  of  the  foe. 

Was  victor  still !    And  not  in  war  is  our 

Reliance  !    Fool,  sing  that  to  Trojan  ears. 

And  for  thine  own  advantage.    Ay,  go  on  I  545 

Set  all  agape  with  mortal  terror  !  laud 

To  heaven  the  prowess  of  this  twice-flogged  tribe. 

And  cry  the  forces  of  Latinus  down  ! 

Why,  e'en  the  Grecian  chiefs  are  shuddering  still 

Before  the  Trojan  steel !  still  Diomed,  55° 

And  still  Achilles  of  Larissa !  Back 

From  the  Adriatic  sea  the  Aufidus 


BOOK  XI. 


367 


Recoils  !    Why,  but  this  lying  scoundrel  feigns 

That  he  is  put  in  fear  by  threats  of  mine, 

And  heightens  accusation  with  alarm  !  sss 

•Rack  thee  no  more  in  terror  lest  thou  lose 

E'en  such  a  life  as  thine  by  my  right  hand. 

With  thee  let  it  abide,  and  in  that  breast 

There  let  it  stay  !  —  And  now  to  thee,  good  sire. 

And  thy  suggestions  I  return.    If  thou  s^o 

Hast  in  our  arms  no  further  hope,  if  we 

Are  so  reduced  and  utterly  destroyed 

At  one  reverse,  and  fortune  has  for  us 

No  turn  in  store,  then  let  us  sue  for  peace. 

And  our  defenceless  hands  hold  up !    And  yet,  s^s 

Ye  gods  !  were  aught  of  old-time  valor  here, 

I'd  think  him  happy  in  his  lot  and  great 

Of  soul  beyond  all  other  men  on  earth, 

Who  laid  him  down  to  die  and  bit  the  dust 

Rather  than  live  to  witness  such  a  sight !  570 

But  if  we  have  resources  still  of  men 

And  money  of  our  own,  besides  the  aid 

Of  the  Italian  towns  and  peoples ;  if 

At  cost  of  seas  of  blood  the  Trojans  won 

Their  triumph ;  if  they  too  have  had  their  dead  575 

To  bury,  and  the  storm  on  all  alike 

Hath  fallen,  then  why  thus  shamelessly  should  we 

Falter  at  the  first  step  ?  why  tremor  thrill 

Our  nerves  ere  yet  the  trumpet  sound  to  arms  ? 

Time  and  the  ever-changing  round  of  years  sSo 

Have  many  an  ill  repaired  ;  and  fortune's  wheel 

One  day  makes  poor  whom  it  enriches  next. 

Arpi  and  Diomed  will  aid  us  not ! 


368 


THE  ^NEID. 


Ay,  but  Messapus  will !  Tolumnius  too, 

That  augur  of  success !  —  and  all  the  chiefs 

Sent  by  so  many  clans  !    Not  small  shall  be 

The  glory  of  a  follower  of  these  chiefs, 

The  chosen  warriors  they  of  Latium's  soil 

And  the  Laurentian  land.    Camilla  there, 

The  generous  Volscian  blood  within  her  veins,  59° 

Marshals  her  regiment  of  horse,  their  ranks 

Ablaze  with  shining  brass.    Yet  if  it  be 

The  Trojans  challenge  me  to  single  fight, 

If  that  is  best,  and  I  so  much  obstruct 

The  common  good,  not  yet  hath  victory  fled  59S 

From  my  rejected  hand  so  far  that  I 

For  such  a  stake  would  turn  from  any  test ! 

With  all  my  heart  will  I  ^neas  meet. 

Though  he  be  great  Achilles'  conqueror  e'en 

And  wear  like  him  armor  that  Vulcan's  hands 

Have  wrought.    To  you,  my  countrymen  ;  to  thee, 

Latinus,  father  of  my  bride,  do  I  — 

I,  Turnus,  who  in  valor  yield  the  palm 

To  none  of  eld  —  devote  this  life  of  mine. 

^neas  summons  me  to  single  fight !  ^5 

Ay,  summon  me  I  pray  he  may.    If  death 

Their  wrath  demand,  be  it  not  Drances'  death 

That  shall  appease  the  gods  !    Let  him  not  win 

The  glory,  be  it  fame  or  victory !  " 

While  on  their  dubious  case  they  thus  debate, 
^neas  has  his  camp  and  battle  line 
Moved  up.    Comes  rushing  through  the  royal  courts, 
A  tumult  at  his  heels,  a  messenger 
Who  with  o'erwhelming  terror  fills  the  town, 


BOOK  XI 


369 


Shouting  that  on  the  Tiber's  brink  are  drawH  ^15 

The  Trojans  up  in  battle  line,  while  down 

O'er  all  the  plain  the  Tuscan  hosts  descend. 

At  once  is  all  confusion,  everywhere 

Alarm,  and  passions  angrily  ablaze. 

In  haste  they  cry  for  arms  :  the  young  men  shout 

For  arms  ;  sad  fathers  weep  and  murmur  there. 

A  thousand  discords  blend  a  mighty  roar 

That  fills  the  air,  as  when  in  some  deep  wood 

A  flock  of  birds  alight  by  chance,  or  swans 

Along  the  echoing  marshes  of  the  Po  ^^s 

Scream  hoarsely  as  they  swim  that  fishy  stream. 

Quick  Turnus  seized  the  opportunity. 
"Ay,  cram  debate  !  "  he  cried ;  "  sit  here  and  sing 
The  eulogies  of  peace,  while  the  armed  foe 
O'errun  your  realm  !  "  No  more  he  spake,  but  tore  ^3° 
From  them  away,  and  from  the  palace  rushed. 
"  Bid,  Volusus,  the  Volscian  companies 
Fall  in,"  he  cried,  "and  march,  the  Rutuli! 
Messapus,  Coras  and  thy  brother,  get 
The  cavalry  in  line,  and  flank  the  plain  !  ^j-: 
Guard  some  the  city  gates  and  hold  the  towers  ! 
The  rest,  advance  with  me  where  I  command  ! " 

At  once  the  whole  town  hurries  to  the  walls. 
Father  Latinus,  vexed  at  the  sad  turn 
Of  things,  himself  forsakes  the  council-board  640 
And  his  great  plans  of  peace,  postponing  them. 
Especially  he  blames  himself  because 
He  welcomed  not  ^neas  cordially. 
Nor  gave  him  greeting  as  a  son-in-law 
Unto  his  realm.    Meanwhile,  some  trenches  dig  ^45 
24 


370 


THE  ^NEID. 


Outside  the  gates,  and  lug  up  stones  and  stakes. 
The  hoarse  horn  sounds  the  bloody  call  to  war. 
Women  and  boys  are  grouped  upon  the  walls, 
A  motley  throng.    The  last  die  summons  all. 

To  Pallas'  temple  and  her  lofty  shrines 
Goes  too  the  queen,  gifts  in  her  hands,  a  flock 
Of  matrons  in  her  train ;  while  at  her  side 
The  maid  Lavinia  follows,  cause  of  all 
The  woe,  her  sweet  eyes  drooping  on  the  ground. 
The  matrons  enter,  and  with  frankincense  ^55 
Perfume  the  temple.    On  the  threshold  bent, 
They  pour  their  mournful  prayers  :   "  Almighty  queen 
Of  war,  Tritonian  maid,  break  with  thy  hand 
The  Phrygian  robber's  spear!    Headlong  to  earth 
Fell  him,  and  crush  him  'neath  thy  lofty  gates  ! " 

Wrought  to  a  flame  of  fury,  for  the  fight 
Now  Turnus  arms.    Clad  in  Rutulian  mail, 
His  brazen  armor  glares,  his  legs  are  greaved 
In  gilt,  his  head  still  bare ;  about  his  waist 
He  buckles  on  his  sword,  and,  as  he  runs  '^^s 
Down  from  the  lofty  citadel,  'tis  like 
A  flash  of  gold.    His  heart  beats  high ;  and  he. 
Now  full  of  hope,  impatient  waits  the  foe. 
So  from  his  stall,  his  halter  broken,  flies, 
At  liberty  at  last,  the  horse  that  now  ^7° 
Ranges  the  open  fields,  or  pastures  seeks 
■  Where  mares  do  herd,  or  plunges  for  a  bath 
In  some  familiar  stream,  outspringing  whence 
He  proudly  neighs  while  high  his  neck  is  arched 
And  down  his  throat  and  shoulders  streams  his  mane.  ^7S 

Camilla  meets  him  with  her  Volscian  line. 


BOOK  XL 


And  at  the  very  gates,  though  she  a  queen, 
Dismounts.    The  whole  battalion  like  herself 
Leap  to  the  earth  and  leave  their  steeds.    And  thus 
She  speaks  :  "  Turnus,  if  thou  canst  put  thy  trust  ^"^^ 
In  one  true  fearless  heart,  I  have  no  fear 
But  pledge  thee  I  will  check  the  Trojan  host 
And  ride  alone  against  the  Tuscan  horse. 
Give  me  permission  with  my  men  to  feel 
The  outposts  of  the  foe.    With  the  infantry,  ^^s 
Remain  thou  by  the  town,  and  guard  the  walls." 

Fixed  on  the  dashing  maid  were  Turnus'  eyes, 
And  thus  he  answered  her :  "  Virgin,  and  flower 
Of  Italy,  how  can  I  better  speak 
Or  prove  my  thanks,  than  if  with  thee  I  share  ^90 
The  danger,  since  thy  spirit  bold  o'errides 
All  fear.    A  rumor  and  my  skirmishers 
Report  it  certain  that,  on  mischief  bent, 
^neas  has  his  light  armed  cavalry 
Pushed  on  to  raid  the  plains,  while  he  along  695 
The  unprotected  passes  of  the  hills 
Surmounts  the  heights,  advancing  on  the  town. 
I  plan  an  ambuscade  where  through  the  woods 
The  pathway  winds,  by  which  with  an  armed  force 
I  both  its  outlets  can  command.    Do  thou  700 
Charge  in  close  column  on  the  Tuscan  horse. 
To  thy  support  shall  bold  Messapus  go, 
The  Tibur  squadron  and  the  Latin  troops : 
Thyself  assume  the  duty  of  command." 
This  said,  with  like  instructions  to  the  front  705 
He  spurs  Messapus  and  the  leaguer  chiefs, 
And  hastes  himself  to  meet  the  enemy. 


372 


THE  iENEID. 


It  is  a  broken  winding  mountain-pass, 

Fit  for  surprise  and  ambuscade,  enclosed 

With  foliage  dense  on  every  side.    Through  it  710 

A  narrow  pathway  runs,  its  outlets  pinched 

And  its  approaches  blind.    Commanding  this, 

Along  the  mountain  ridges  lies  a  slope, 

Of  which  the  enemy  know  nothing  yet. 

Where,  under  cover,  on  the  right  and  left  715 

Attack  is  easy,  whether  be  the  plan 

To  charge  from  off  the  heights,  or  roll  down  rocks. 

Hastes  to  these  well  known  paths  the  chief,  secures 

His  ground,  and,  by  the  forest  hid,  encamps. 

Meantime  Diana  in  the  heavenly  realm  720 
Summons  swift  Opis  from  the  sacred  train 
Of  her  attendant  virgins,  and  thus  speaks 
In  sorrow :    "  To  the  cruel  war,  O  maid, 
Camilla  goes  —  no  woman  else  so  dear 
To  me  —  in  vain  equipped  with  arms  like  ours.  725 
No  new  love  this  that  in  Diana  springs 
To  move  her  soul  with  sudden  tenderness. 
When  Metabus  from  old  Privernum's  walls 
Fled  through  the  battle's  midst  and  wandered  forth. 
He  bore  her,  but  an  infant  then,  to  share  730 
His  exile,  giving  her  her  mother's  name  — 
Casmilla  to  Camilla  turned  by  change 
Of  but  a  letter.    With  her  on  his  breast 
He  roamed  the  far-off  hills  and  lonely  woods. 
With  cruel  steel  the  Volsci  pressed  him  hard  73s 
At  every  point,  and  dogged  his  track  from  bush 
To  bush,  encircling  him  with  soldiery, 
When  lo  !  midway  his  flight,  its  banks  o'erflowed, 


BOOK  XI. 


373 


The  Amasenus  foamed,  so  heavily 

The  rain  had  fallen  from  out  the  clouds.  Himself  740 

Ready  to  swim,  anxious  for  his  sweet  load, 

Love  for  his  baby  kept  him  back  until, 

Near  his  wit's  end,  flashed  through  his  mind  a  plan 

Almost  too  late.    It  happed  the  warrior  bore 

In  his  stout  hand  a  heavy  spear-pole,  thick  745 

With  knots  and  hardened  o'er  the  fire.    On  this 

He  binds  the  child,  wrapped  in  wild  cork  and  bark. 

And  lightly  ties  her  round  and  round  along 

The  shaft.    Then  in  his  ponderous  right  hand 

High  poising  it,  he  utters  up  a  prayer  :  75° 

'  Diana,  gracious  virgin,  unto  thee, 

'  Thou  goddess  of  the  woods,  I  consecrate 

'  This  child  thy  votary,  her  father  I. 

*  In  thine  own  primitive  rude  armor  clad, 

*  A  suppliant  through  the  air  she  flies  the  foe.  755 
'  Take  her,  I  pray  thee,  goddess,  for  thine  own 

'  Whom  to  the  uncertain  winds  I  now  commit.' 

And  with  the  word,  his  arm  flung  back,  he  hurls 

The  writhing  shaft.    The  waves  roar  under  it. 

Yet  on  the  shrilling  spear  Camilla  speeds,  760 

Poor  waif,  the  swift  stream  o'er.    But  Metabus, 

As  closer  now  his  thick  pursuers  press, 

Into  the  river  leaps,  and,  mastering  its  flood,  , 

Plucks  from  the  grassy  turf  his  spear  again, 

The  little  maiden,  by  Diana's  grace,  76s 

Still  there.    No  city  in  its  homes  or  walls 

E'er  sheltered  him :  -nor  e'er,  too  savage  he, 

For  quarter  would  he  sue.    A  shepherd's  life 

He  spent  among  the  mountain  solitudes. 


374 


THE  ^NEID. 


Mid  thickets  and  the  gloomy  woods,  he  fed  770 
The  child  with  wild  milk  from  a  brood-mare's  teats, 
And  milked  them  in  her  baby  mouth.    Nor  she 
Had  sooner  taken  step  upon  the  leaves. 
Than  in  her  wee  o'erburdened  hands  he  put 
A  dart  with  its  sharp  point,  and  girt  a  bow  775 
And  arrows  on  her  shoulder.    In  the  place 
Of  clasp  of  gold  to  gather  up  her  hair, 
Or  long  robe  round  her  wrapped,  a  tiger's  skin 
Hung  from  her  crown  and  down  her  back.   E'en  then 
With  little  hand  she  hurled  her  mimic  spears,  780 
Whirled  round  her  head  the  sling's  long  slender  cords. 
And  brought  a  white  swan  down  or  Strymon  crane. 
In  vain  did  many  a  dame  in  Tuscan  town 
Seek  her  in  marriage  for  a  son.  Content 
To  be  Diana's  own,  pure  as  a  babe,  78s 
She  loved  her  arrows  and  her  maidenhood. 
And  nothing  else.    Would  she  had  ne'er  been  forced 
Into  this  war's  campaign,  nor  made  attempt 
To  charge  the  Trojans !    Ever  dear  to  me, 
She  else  were  one  of  my  companions  now.  790 
Speed,  then !  for  cruel  fate  is  on  her  track. 
Glide,  Nymph,  from  heaven  swift  down  and  search  the 
fields 

Of  Latium,  where  this  sorry  fight  begins 

With  inauspicious  omens.    Take  thou  these. 

And  from  this  quiver  an  avenging  shaft  79S 

Draw  out :  and  whosoe'er  her  sacred  flesh 

Shall  with  a  wound  insult,  with  that  shall  he 

Pay  me  the  atonement  of  his  blood,  alike 

Though  he  be  son  of  Troy  or  Italy  ; 


BOOK  XI. 


375 


And  after  that,  I'll  her  poor  body  wrap  v 
In  hollow  cloud,  and  bear  her  to  the  grave, 
Clad  in  her  undishonored  armor  still. 
And  to  her  native  land  restore  her."  While 
Diana  spake,  the  nymph  was  gliding  down 
The  yielding  currents  of  the  air ;  you  heard 
The  rustling  of  her  wings,  while  yet  her  form 
Was  hid  within  a  black  and  angry  gust. 

Meantime  the  Trojan  army  nears  the  town  — 
The  Tuscan  chiefs  and  all  the  cavalry, 
Every  battalion  numbered  and  assigned. 
All  o'er  the  field  proud  chargers  curvet  back 
And  forth,  and  fret  against  the  tight-drawn  rein. 
The  plain  is  far  and  wide  one  bristling  frieze 
Of  iron  barbs,  a  blazing  sward  of  high 
Uplifted  spears.    Upon  the  other  side,  ^^s 
Messapus  and  the  Latin  skirmishers, 
Coras  and  his  twin  brother,  and  the  maid 
Camilla's  cavalry,  across  the  field 
Are  seen  advancing  to  the  attack  :  they  poise 
Their  spears,  their  right  hands  flung  well  back,  and 
shake  820 
Their  javelins.    Fiercer  yet  and  fiercer  grows 
The  neigh  of  steeds,  the  onset  of  the  charge. 

Advanced  within  the  casting  of  a  spear, 
Each  army  halts.    Forth  of  a  sudden  bursts 
The  battle-cry.    They  spur  their  snorting  steeds, 
AUwheres  at  once  their  missiles  stream  as  fast 
As  snowflakes  fall,  and  veil  the  sky  with  gloom. 
Tyrrhenus  and  the  brave  Aconteus  charge 
Each  other  instantly ;  they  interlock 


376 


THE  iENEID. 


Their  spears ;  'tis  thunder-roar,  when  first  they  clash, 

And  breast  to  breast  their  bruisbd  chargers  strike. 

Aconteus,  like  the  lightning's  flash,  or  bolt 

Of  catapult,  shot  from  his  steed  is  flung 

Headforemost  far,  his  breath  knocked  out  of  him. 

At  once  the  lines  are  in  confusion  thrown.  ^35 

Forced  back,  the  Latin  troops  reverse  their  shields, 

And  turn  their  horses  toward  the  city  walls. 

The  Trojans  press  the  charge  :  Asylas  leads 

Their  columns  on,  he  at  their  head.  .  And  now 

They  e'en  are  at  the  gates,  when,  rallying  all,  ^40 

The  Latins  raise  a  shout,  and  rein  to  front 

Their  horses'  flexile  necks.    The  Trojans  then 

It  is  who  fly,  beat  back  within  their  lines. 

And  at  full  gallop  riding.    So  the  tide 

Alternate  ebbs  and  flows  ;  now  floods  the  shore,  ^45 

Flinging  its  foam  and  spray  high  o'er  the  rocks, 

And  surging  to  the  beach's  farthest  edge ; 

Then  swift  rolls  back,  and  many  a  stone  sweeps  off 

With  its  returning  current  to  the  deep. 

Forsaking  with  each  ebbing  wave  the  shore.  ^so 

Twice  did  the  Tuscans  turn  the  Rutuli, 

And  drive  them  to  their  walls :  and  twice  driven  home 

They  too  the  Tuscans'  backs  and  bucklers  saw. 

But  in  the  third  encounter  of  the  fight, 
The  battle  lines  were  broken  utterly,  855^ 
And  each  man  picked  his  man.    Then  came  indeed 
The  groans  of  dying  men.    In  seas  of  blood. 
Arms,  corses,  half-dead  horses  mixed  with  heaps 
Of  slaughtered  soldiers,  weltering  lay.    The  fight 
Grew  fierce.    Orsilochus,  afraid  to  strike 


BOOK  XI. 


377 


At  Remulus  himself,  hurls  at  his  horse 
A  shaft,  driving  the  blade  just  underneath 
Its  ear.    Wild  at  the  blow,  up  rears  the  steed : 
Erect  and  frenzied  with  the  wound,  it  paws 
The  air,  its  rider  tumbling  to  the  ground. 
Catillus  lays  lolas  low,  and  next 
Herminius,  great  of  soul  and  great  in  size 
And  prowess,  — over  whose  bare  head  and  down 
Whose  naked  shoulders  flows  his  yellow  hair. 
No  wound  feared  he :  so  mighty  in  himself,  ^70 
Proof  'gainst  all  steel  he  seemed.    Through  his  huge 
sides 

The  driven  spear  goes  quivering  home,  and  bends 
The  warrior  double  in  his  agony. 
Turn  where  you  will,  flow  streams  of  crimson  gore. 
The  combatants  deal  death  where'er  they  strike,  ^7S 
Or  fall  'neath  wounds  that  make  an  honored  death. 

Camilla,  with  her  quiver  on  her  back. 
Dashes  into  the  centre  of  the  fray. 
True  Amazon,  her  bosom  'neath  one  arm 
She  bares,  so  she  may  thus  the  better  fight. 
Now  slender  javelins  thick  as  sparks  of  fire 
She  shoots  ;  and  now  her  tireless  right  hand  whirls 
In  turn  her  sturdy  two-edged  battle-axe. 
Her  gilded  bow  against  her  shoulder  twangs ; 
If  e'er  beat  back  she  now  and  then  gives  way,  885 
Still,  turning  in  her  saddle,  shaft  on  shaft 
She  plies.    Ride  at  her  side  her  chosen  friends. 
The  maid  Larina  —  all  Italian  girls  — 
And  Tulla,  and  Tarpeia  brandishing 
Her  brazen  battle-axe,  —  a  graceful  staff  Sgo 


378 


THE  ^NEID. 


That  proud  Camilla  had  selected  her, 

Fair  ministers  alike  of  peace  or  war. 

So  gallop  down,Thermodon's  banks  along, 

The  Amazons  of  Thrace,  when  to  the  war 

They  go  in  arms  of  many  a  hue ;  so  they  895 

Surround  Hippolyte  ;  so  with  loud  shouts 

Of  joy,  those  fair  ranks  strike  their  crescent  shields 

As  they  Penthesilea's  chariot  wheels. 

Returning  from  the  battle  field,  escort. 

Whom  first,  whom  last,  did'st  with  thy  spear,  bold 
maid,  900 
Then  overthrow  ?    How  many  dying  men 
Did'st  stretch  upon  the  ground  ?     First  Clytius'  son, 
Eumenius,  whose  bared  breast,  as  he  comes  up. 
She  pierces  with  her  slender  javelin. 
He  tumbles,  vomiting  a  stream  of  blood,  905 
And  bites  the  dust,  writhing  in  agony 
Upon  his  wounds.    On  him  she  Liris  piles. 
And  Pagasus,  —  one  from  the  saddle  thrown 
While  tightening  the  bridle  rein,  his  horse 
Stabbed  in  the  belly ;  the  other  as  he  ran  9i» 
To  aid,  and  stretched  his  right  hand  out  in  vain 
To  save  his  falling  friend  ;  together  both 
Go  headlong  down.    To  keep  them  company. 
She  sends  Amastrus,  son  of  Hippotas. 
Forward  she  presses,  and,  though  at  long  range,  9^5 
Strikes  Tereus  with  her  spear,  Harpalycus, 
Demophoon,  and  Chromis.    For  each  shaft 
The  maiden's  hand  sends  whirling  on  its  flight, 
A  Trojan  falls.    Within  spear-shot,  and  clad 
In  armor  quaint,  the  hunter  Ornytus 


BOOK  XI. 


379 


Rides  an  Apulian  steed.    A  wild  bull's  hide, 
Stripped  off  entire,  envelops  his  huge  frame ; 
A  wolf's  wide  grinning  jaws  and  glistening  teeth 
Rise  o'er  his  head :  no  weapon  in  his  hand 
Except  a  limb  still  green.    Mid  the  melee,  9*5 
He  rides  a  whole  head  higher  than  them  all. 
An  easy  mark,  she  pierces  him  —  light  task 
When  all  before  her  fled  —  and  thus  she  spake 
Above  the  body  of  the  foe  :    "  Did'st  think. 
Etrurian,  thou  wert  hunting  in  the  woods  ?  930 
The  day  has  come  when  but  a  woman's  arm 
Hath  forced  thy  bluster  back  into  thy  throat. 
Yet  one  great  honor  to  thy  fathers'  shades 
Thou  tak'st  —  thou  diest  at  Camilla's  hand." 

Then  the  two  giants  of  the  Trojan  camp,  93s 
Orsilochus  and  Butes,  charge  on  her. 
Confronting  Butes,  she  drives  home  her  spear 
Betwixt  his  helmet  and  his  coat  of  mail 
Where,  as  he  rides,  his  neck  is  jostled  bare. 
But  from  Orsilochus  she  feigns  to  fly,  940 
And  leads  him  in  a  goodly  circuit  round, 
Then  deftly  wheels  in  that,  eluding  him 
Until,  pursued  become  pursuer,  she 
Uprising  in  the  stirrup,  blow  on  blow, 
Sends  crashing  through  the  warrior's  mail  and  bones  945 
Her  sturdy  battle-axe,  deaf  to  his  cries 
And  his  repeated  prayers.    Out  through  the  wound. 
His  brain  still  warm  comes  oozing  down  his  cheeks. 

Just  then  across  her  path  came  Aunus'  son, 
A  warrior  of  the  Apennines  :  stock  still  950 
He  stood,  dazed  at  the  sudden  sight,  and  yet,  — 


38o 


THE  yENEID. 


A  true  Ligurian  he,  quick  at  a  ruse 

If  fate  blocked  not  the  way,  —  soon  as  he  saw 

'Twas  now  too  late  to  edge  him  from  the  fight 

Or  'scape  the  onset  of  the  queen,  in  hope  95s 

He  might  outwit  her  with  a  trick,  he  cried : 

"  What  though  a  woman  thou,  what  credit  thine, 
There  trusting  to  the  odds  of  thy  swift  steed  ! 
Cut  off  the  means  of  flight,  dare  hand  to  hand 
Meet  me  on  common  ground,  and  fight  afoot,  ''^ 
And  I  will  teach  thee  that  a  braggart's  fame 
Is  but  a  lie."    E'en  as  he  spake,  the  maid, 
Stung  to  the  very  quick  and  hot  with  rage. 
To  her  companion  gave  the  bridle-rein. 
And  for  fair  fight  stood  ready,  fearless  she,  965 
Although  on  foot,  with  but  her  naked  sword 
And  simple  buckler.    But  the  warrior,  sure 
He  had  outwitted  her,  reined  instantly 
About,  and  ploughing  with  his  iron  heel 
His  nimble  courser's  flanks,  fled  like  the  wind.  970 
"  Thou  blustering  Ligurian,  thou  art  all 
Too  easily  elated,  and  hast  tried 
Thy  country's  slippery  tactics  but  in  vain ! 
Ne'er  to  thy  father  Aunus  —  trickster  too  — 
Shall  trick  of  thine  secure  thy  safe  return  !  "  97S 
Thus  cried  the  Amazon  :  a  flame  of  fire. 
His  steed  outstripping,  on  her  flying  feet 
She  overtook  him,  faced  him,  seized  his  reins, 
And  took  her  vengeance  in  his  hated  blood 
As  easily  as  when  that  sacred  bird,  98a 
The  hawk,  down  swooping  from  the  mountain  crags, 
Chases  a  dove  afloat  among  the  clouds, 


BOOK  XI. 


Clutches,  holds,  tears  her  with  his  claws,  blood-drops 
And  the  torn  plumage  falling  through  the  air. 

Not  with  indifferent  eyes  on  such  a  scene  985 
Looks  he,  Father  of  men  and  gods,  who  sits 
Enthroned  upon  Olympus'  top  :  at  once 
He  calls  into  the  hottest  of  the  fight 
The  Tuscan  captain  Tarchon,  and  inflames 
His  fury  with  no  gentle  spurs.    'Tis  then,  990 
That  to  the  centre  of  the  carnage  where 
The  lines  are  giving  way,  rides  Tarchon  up. 
Rallies  his  flying  squadrons  with  whate'er 
The  needed  word,  calls  on  each  man  by  name, 
And  thus  inspires  them  to  the  fight  again  995 
In  spite  of  their  retreat :    "  What  cowardice 
Is  this  !  "  he  cries  :    "  O  Tuscans,  cravens,  slaves, 
Hath  such  unmanliness  unnerved  your  souls ! 
A  woman  set  you  flying  like  a  flock 
Of  sheep,  and  turn  your  serried  ranks  !  For  what 
Wield  we  the  sword,  or  hurl  these  idle  spears  ? 
No  laggards  ye  in  Venus'  battle-fields 
O'  nights,  or  when  the  crooked  Bacchic  horn 
Calls  to  the  dance !  To  linger  for  the  feast 
Or  for  the  table  with  its  dripping  bowl  ^°°s 
Until  the  seer  proclaims  the  omens  good. 
And  the  rich  banquet  calls  you  to  the  groves  — 
Ay !  there  is  your  ambition,  there  your  fire  !  " 
So  spake,  then  spurred  his  steed  into  the  jaws 
Of  death,  and  fiercely  charged  on  Venulus  :  ^°*<* 
He  grasps  his  foe  and  drags  him  from  his  horse 
With  his  right  hand ;  and,  straining  every  nerve, 
Lifts  him  to  his  own  saddle-bow.    The  air 


382 


THE  ^NEID. 


Is  rent  with  shouts ;  upon  them  riveted 

Centre  the  eyes  of  all  the  Latin  host.  ^o^s 

Across  the  plain  fierce  Tarchon  flies,  and  bears 

His  foeman  with  his  armor  on ;  the  steel 

He  breaks  from  oE  his  own  spear-shaft,  and  seeks 

Some  open  armor-chink  where  he  may  deal 

A  deadly  wound.    The  other,  fighting  back,  ^020 

Wards  off  the  hand  that  plunges  at  his  throat. 

And  matches  strength  with  strength.    So  flying  high, 

A  fiery  eagle  lifts  the  snake  he  stooped 

To  snatch,  entangled  roiind  his  feet  and  gripped 

Within  his  claws  :  the  wounded  serpent  coils 

Its  sinuous  folds  ;  its  bristling  scales  are  up  ; 

Its  head  is  arched  to  strike,  and  open-mouthed 

It  hisses :  none  the  less  with  his  hooked  beak 

The  eagle  rends  it  as  it  writhes,  his  wings 

Loud  flapping  all  the  while  against  the  air.  ^°3o 

So  Tarchon  swoops  his  prey  from  off  the  field, 

Triumphant  over  Venulus.  Again 

The  Tuscans  charge,  now  rallying  to  the  lead 

And  fortune  of  their  chief.    'Tis  just  at  this 

That  death-doomed  Aruns,  with  his  spear  in  hand,^°35 

Moves  cautiously  before  Camilla's  swift 

Advance,  and  edges  round  and  round  to  find 

His  easiest  opportunity.  Where'er 

The  dashing  maiden  gallops  through  the  lines, 

There  Aruns  creeps  and  tracks  her  stealthily.  ^040 

Whene'er  she  rides  triumphant  back,  or  flies 

The  foe,  then  furtively  aside  the  youth 

His  swift  steed  reins.    Now  this  approach,  now  that 

He  tries,  and  now  the  whole  round  circuit  scours, 


BOOK  XI. 


383 


Still  poising  vengefully  his  fatal  spear.  ^°45 

Chanced  there  that  Chloreus,  once  a  holy  priest 
Of  Cybele,  in  Trojan  armor  flashed, 
Seen  from  afar,  a  shining  mark.    He  spurred 
A  foaming  steed  caparisoned  beneath 
A  robe  of  skins  with  gold  laced  up,  and  scales  '°so 
Of  brass  like  feathers  o'er  each  other  lapped. 
Himself,  in  foreign  blue  and  purple  bright, 
Shot  Cretan  arrows  from  a  Lycian  bow 
That,  tipped  with  gold,  against  his  shoulder  twanged  : 
Gold  too  the  helmet  of  the  priest,  and  gold  ^°ss 
The  clasp  that  knotted  up  his  yellow  cloak 
In  rustling  flaxen  folds,  — his  tunic  wrought 
With  needle  work,  —  wild  gaudy  trappings  down 
His  legs.    Blind  to  all  else,  — •  either  that  she 
Might  deck  her  with  the  gilt  from  him  despoiled,  • 
Or  hang  on  temple-gate  his  Trojan  arms,  — 
The  huntress  maid  was  in  pursuit  of  him 
Outsingled  from  that  whole  melee  of  war. 
Past  the  long  lines  of  battle,  rash  she  rode. 
Fired  with  a  woman's  eagerness  for  spoils 
And  booty  such  as  these.    Then  'twas,  at  last. 
That  Aruns  seized  his  opportunity. 
And  from  his  cover  launched  a  javelin. 
While  to  the  gods  he  lifted  up  this  prayer  : 
"  O  thou,  Apollo,  chief  among  the  gods, 
Holy  Soracte's  guardian  lord,  whom  we 
Worship  before  all  other  gods,  whose  flames 
We  feed  with  fagots  of  the  blazing  pine. 
And  through  whose  fires  we,  thy  adorers,  walk 
O'er  beds  of  coals,  protected  by  our  faith,  —  ^°7S 


384 


THE  iENEID. 


Deign,  O  almighty  father,  to  wash  out 

This  stain  upon  our  arms !    No  armor  stripped 

For  trophy  from  a  fainting  girl  seek  I, 

Nor  spoils.    'Tis  other  deeds  shall  win  me  praise.  ^ 

Let  my  hand  crush  but  this  malignant  pest, 

And  I  content  will  go  inglorious  home." 

Much  as  he  cared  to  grant,  Apollo  heard ; 
The  rest  he  did  but  puff  into  the  air ;  — 
Granted  the  beggar's  wish  that  he  might  kill 
Camilla,  whelming  her  with  sudden  death;  ^°^5 
But  granted  not  that  his  own  native  land 
Should  look  on  his  return  :  —  that  prayer  the  winds 
Swept  into  space.    So  'twas,  that,  as  the  shaft 
Leaping  from  Aruns'  hand  whirred  through  the  air, 
Each  gallant  Volscian  caught  the  sound,  and  bent  ^°9o 
His  eyes  upon  his  queen,  unconscious  she 
Of  e'er  a  sound  or  ripple  in  the  breeze. 
Or  weapon  speeding  from  afar,  till  deep 
In  her  bare  bosom  driven,  the  javelin  hung, 
And,  there  forced  home,  drank  up  her  virgin  blood.  ^°9S 
Her  horror-struck  companions  gather  round 
And  hold  their  fainting  mistress  up,  while  half 
In  fear  and  half  in  triumph  Aruns  flies,  — 
None  there  so  utterly  unmanned  as  he 
Who  dares  no  longer  either  trust  his  spear  "°° 
Or  face  the  virgin's  steel.    So  stealthily, 
The  blood  of  shepherd  or  of  bullock  sucked, 
Into  the  mountain  gorges  slinks  a  wolf 
In  terror  at  his  own  audacity. 

Ere  hunter's  spear  can  follow  him  :  he  drops  '^°5 
And  to  his  belly  hugs  his  trembling  tail 


BOOK  XL 


38s 


And  hides  him  in  the  wood.    So  stole  from  sight 

Uneasy  Aruns,  glad  at  his  escape, 

And,  mingling  in  the  ranks,  was  lost  to  view. 

The  dying  maid  is  tugging  at  the  spear :  »"« 
The  iron  blade  deep  into  her  bosom  driven 
Sticks  'twixt  her  ribs.    She  swoons  with  loss  of  blood  : 
Her  fainting  eyes  grow  dim  and  cold  in  death : 
Fades  out  the  rose  hue,  on  her  cheek  but  now, 
Till  with  her  latest  breath  she  Acca  calls —  "»s 
The  one  companion  of  Camilla  she. 
Who  loyalest  had  been,  and  who  had  shared 
Her  every  care  —  and  thus  she  speaks  to  her: 
"  I  have  been,  sister  Acca,  strong  till  now ; 
But  ah,  this  rankling  wound  is  killing  me, 
And  all  around  grows  black  as  night.    Fly  thou, 
To  Turnus  this  my  last  injunction  bear  — 
To  stem  the  fight  and  from  the  city  fend 
The  Trojans  off !    Now,  now,  farewell."    And  while 
She  spake,  the  reins  were  slipping  from  her  hand,"*s 
And  helplessly  she  sank  upon  the  ground 
Till,  her  cold  limbs  all  slowly  languishing, 
Her  neck  adroop,  she  last  let  go  her  spear. 
And  laid  her  head,  death-stricken,  down  to  rest. 
One  sigh,  and  the  grieved  spirit  sped  to  heaven.  '»3<» 

Ah  !  mighty  then  the  roar  that  thunders  up. 
And  strikes  the  golden  stars.    Camilla  slain, 
The  battle  rages  hotter  than  before. 
And  the  whole  Trojan  line,  the  Tuscan  chiefs, 
Evander's  light  Arcadian  cavalry,  "3S 
All  charge  at  once  in  one  unbroken  front. 

Still  all  the  while,  upon  the  mountain  top, 
25 


386 


THE  iENEID. 


There  Opis  sat,  Diana's  sentinel, 

And  calmly  watched  the  fight.    But  when,  amid 

That  clash  of  furious  champions,  far  she  saw 

Camilla  pay  death's  cruel  doom,  she  groaned. 

And  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart  cried  out : 

"  Ah,  maiden  I  too,  too  hard  the  penalty 

Thou  pay'st  for  thy  endeavor  in  war's  lists 

To  break  the  Trojan  strength.    Of  what  avail,  "♦s 

That,  in  the  forests  left  a  lonely  waif, 

Thou  hast  Diana  served,  and  on  thy  back 

Our  arrows  borne  !    Yet  thee  hath  not  our  queen 

Left  unremembered  in  the  throes  of  death. 

The  story  of  thy  fate  shall  fill  the  earth ;  "So 

But  never  thine  the  infamy  shall  be 

Of  dying  unavenged.    Who'er  it  is 

Hath  marred  thy  body  with  a  wound,  shall  for't 

Atone,  as  he  deserves,  in  his  own  blood." 

Beneath  the  summit  of  a  hill  there  stood  "ss 
A  heavy  mound  of  earth,  the  sepulchre 
Of  King  Dercennus,  an  old  Latin  king, 
Enshadowed  in  oak  foliage.    Unto  this. 
At  once  the  fair  nymph  winged  her  rapid  flight. 
And  looked  on  Aruns  from  atop  the  tomb. 
Soon  as  she  saw  him  and  his  glittering  arms, 
A  very  bag  of  wind,  "  Why  go  that  way  ?  " 
•  She  cried  :  "  Bear  here  thy  step  !  A  doomed  man  thou, 
Come  hither,  that  thou  may'st  rewarded  be 
As  fits  Camilla's  murderer.    And  yet  "^s 
Shall  such  as  thou  fall  by  Diana's  steel  ? " 
And  when  she  this  had  said,  the  Thracian  nymph 
A  swift  shaft  from  her  golden  quiver  drew, 


BOOK  XL 


387 


And  stretched  it  on  her  bow  with  deadly  aim. 

Far  back  she  pulled  the  cord,  till  the  curved  tips  "70 

Did  meet,  and,  each  hand  to  the  utmost  strained, 

Touched  with  her  left  the  arrow-head,  her  right 

The  bow-string  and  her  breast.    In  the  same  breath 

And  instantly,  did  Aruns  hear  the  twang 

And  whistling  of  the  shaft,  and  pierced  the  steel  "7S 

His  side.    His  comrades,  careless  of  his  fate. 

There  lea\  e  the  dying  man  to  groan  his  last,  — 

Unmarked  the  dust-heap  where  he  lies  afield. 

Opis  to  high  Olympus  wings  her  flight. 

Camilla's  light-horse  are  the  first  to  turn,  "8<» 
Their  leader  slain.    The  routed  Rutuli 
Take  flight.    E'en  brave  Atinas  flies.    The  chiefs 
Are  scattered  :  their  abandoned  squadrons  run 
To  cover,  wheel  their  steeds  and  gallop  toward 
The  town :  nor  is  there  one  lifts  spear  to  check,  "^s 
Or  turns  to  stem  the  Trojans  as  they  charge 
And  hurl  destruction.    All  unstrung,  they  fling 
Their  bows  across  their  weary  shoulders  while 
To  powder  trod  the  earth  beats  to  the  hoofs 
Of  their  four-footed  steeds.   Dense  clouds  of  dust  "9° 
Roll  toward  the  town.    Women  are  on  the  walls, 
Who  strike  their  breasts,  and  to  the  stars  of  heaven 
Lift  their  shrill  shrieks.    E'en  they,  who  are  the  first 
To  rush  in  at  the  open  gates,  escape 
Not  so  the  pang  of  death,  for  in  their  ranks  "9S 
Are  mingled  many  of  the  foe  :  and  there, 
On  their  own  thresholds,  in  their  native  walls, 
And  'neath  the  shelter  of  their  very  homes 
Cut  down,  they  breathe  their  lives  away.    Some  shut 


388 


THE  iENEID. 


The  gates,  and,  though  their  comrades  beg,  dare  not  '^oo 

Re-ope  the  way  or  let  them  in  the  town. 

Begins  a  horrid  butchery  then  —  aUke 

Of  those  who  with  their  spears  ward  off,  and  those 

Who  fly  but  to  encounter  worse :  so  packed 

The  throng,  some  headlong  in  the  ditches  fall ; 

Some,  blind  with  terror,  charging  at  full  speed, 

Keep  battering  at  the  gates  and  at  their  barred 

And  heavy  doors.    True  patriots  still  at  heart,  — 

Camilla  in  their  eyes,  — the  women  e'en 

Hurl  missiles  from  the  walls  with  their  weak  hands 

Amid  the  very  hottest  of  the  fight : 

In  wild  disorder  they,  in  place  of  steel, 

Ply  stakes,  rough  sticks  of  wood,  fire-hardened  poles, 

Fearless  and  foremost  for  their  homes  to  die. 

Meantime  is  Turnus  in  the  woods  o'erwhelmed  "'s 
At  the  disastrous  tidings  :  Acca  tells 
The  chieftain  of  the  mighty  rout;  —  how  crushed 
Is  now  the  Volscian  line; — Camilla  slain;  — 
The  enemy,  with  victory  flushed,  possessed 
Of  every  point,  massed  for  attack,  and  then,  "^o 
That  moment,  striking  terror  to  the  town. 
He,  wild  with  rage — for  so  Jove's  harsh  decrees 
Demand  —  deserts  his  cover  in  the  hills, 
And  leaves  behind  the  forest  fastnesses. 

Scarce  had  he  gone  from  sight  and  reached  the 
plain,  ^225 
When,  entering  at  the  now  abandoned  pass, 
.^neas  crossed  the  mountain,  and  emerged 
From  out  the  shadow  of  the  woods.    Thus  both 
Were  rapidly  advancing  on  the  walls,  — 


BOOK  XI. 


389 


So  little  way  apart,  it  seemed  but  one  "3o 

Long  line  of  march.    Nor  did  ^neas  see 

The  dust  clouds  vaporing  o'er  the  plain  afar 

And  the  Laurentian  columns  in  his  van, 

Ere  Turnus  recognized  his  deadly  foe 

^neas,  as  he  heard  the  tramp  of  men  "ss 

And  snort  of  steeds.    At  once  they  would  have  met, 

And  dared  the  fight,  had  not  flushed  Phoebus  plunged  ^ 

His  weary  steeds  into  the  western  deep, 

And  drawn  again  the  curtains  of  the  night 

Above  the  dying  day.    Before  the  town  "4o 

They  both  encamp,  and  throw  entrenchments  up. 


TWELFTH  BOOK. 


^  I  ^HOUGH  Turnus  sees  the  Latins  losing  heart, 

Himself  a  mark  for  every  eye,  while  they, 
Spent  by  defeat,  now  fling  his  promises 
Back  in  his  teeth,  he  but  the  fiercer  burns. 
And  puts  new  courage  on.    As  in  the  woods  * 
Of  Africa,  though  deep  the  hunter's  steel 
Hath  gashed  the  lion's  breast,  yet  to  the  last 
He  fronts  the  fight,  and  roars,  and  shakes  the  mane 
That  tumbles  down  his  tawny  neck,  and  snaps, 
Undaunted  by't,  the  invader's  clinging  spear, 
His  mouth  foaming  with  blood :  so  Turnus'  rage 
At  white  heat  glows,  and  thus  he  speaks  the  king  — 
Thus  he  excitedly  begins  :    "  'Tis  not 
That  Turnus  hesitates.    I  would  not  have 
These  dastard  Trojans  take  their  challenge  back,  ^5 
Or  now  withdraw  the  gage  they  once  threw  down. 
I  go  to  meet  them  face  to  face.  Arrange 
Thou,  father,  the  solemnities,  and  let 
The  compact  be  confirmed.    Either  will  I 
That  Trojan  vagabond  from  Asia  send  2° 
With  this  right  hand  to  hell,  and  with  my  sword  — 
The  Latins  need  but  sit  and  see  —  alone 
Refute  the  charge  they  all  unite  to  make, 
Or  he  shall  have  them  for  his  slaves,  and  I 
Will  yield  Lavinia  up  to  wed  with  him." 
Latinus  calmly  answers  him  :  "  O  thou. 


BOOK  XII. 


391 


Brave-hearted  youth,  since  thy  fierce  spirit  dares 

Too  much,  more  need  my  counsel  be  discreet, 

And  that  I  cautiously  each  hazard  weigh. 

Thou  countest  thine  thy  father  Daunus'  realm  3c 

And  many  a  captured  town,  nor  shalt  thou  lack 

Latinus'  gold  or  friendship.    On  the  soil 

Of  Latium  and  Laurentum,  other  brides 

There  are,  whose  blood  would  not  dishonor  thine. 

In  plain  words,  let  me  bare  my  mind,  and  speak  35 

The  things  that  yet  are  hard  to  say :  do  thou 

Fake  them  to  heart.    The  oracles  of  gods 

And  men  alike  forbid  my  daughter  e'er 

Should  native  suitor  wed.    And  yet,  o'ercome 

By  love  of  thee,  our  kinship,  and  the  tears  40 

Of  my  unhappy  wife,  I  broke  all  bonds. 

Robbed  of  his  promised  bride  my  son-in-law, 

And  in  unholy  war  engaged.    Since  then. 

Thou  knowest,  Turnus,  what  disasters,  what 

Defeats  do  follow  me, — nay,  how  much  thou  45 

Hast  suffered  more  than  all  the  rest.    In  two 

Great  battles  beaten,  in  its  capital 

We  scarce  maintain  the  hopes  of  Italy : 

The  Tiber's  current  with  our  blood  doth  stream : 

Broadcast,  the  fields  are  whitening  with  our  bones.  5° 

Why  beat  I  back  and  forth  ?    What  madness  is't 

My  resolution  turns  ?    If,  Turnus  dead, 

I  sure  would  make  alliance  with  the  foe. 

Why,  Turnus  living,  not  the  combat  end  ? 

What  will  my  kin,  the  Rutuli,  what  will  si 

The  rest  of  Italy  not  say,  if  I  — 

May  fortune  never  make  the  utterance  true  !  — 


THE  .ENEID. 


Betray  thee  to  thy  death,  who  cam'st  to  wed 

My  child  ?   Review  the  uncertainties  of  war ; 

Have  pity  on  thy  father,  full  of  years  ^ 

And  sorrow,  separated  far  from  thee 

In  Ardea  thine  own  native  land !  "    In  vain  : 

Words  turn  the  wrath  of  Turnus  not  away ; 

He  burns  the  more,  and  sicker  grows  by  cure. 

Once  master  of  his  voice,  he  thus  begins  :  ^5 

"  I  beg  thee,  best  of  men,  lay  off  the  care 
Thou  bearest  for  my  sake,  and  let  me  die 
So  I  but  win  me  praise.    Good  sire,  I  too 
Have  handled  steel,  nor  is  my  spear  a  boy's ; 
Blood  follows  even  from  the  wounds  I  make :  7° 
Nor  will  his  goddess  mother  now  be  near 
To  hide  his  flight  beneath  a  petticoat 
Of  cloud,  and  in  blind  shadows  wrap  him  up.  " 

In  terror  at  this  new  ordeal  of  arms, 
The  queen  meantime  did  naught  but  weep,  and  cling  7S 
To  her  bold  son-in-law,  herself  resolved 
To  die.    "  I  pray  thee,  Turnus,  by  these  tears, 
If  aught  Amata's  honor  stirs  thy  heart. 
Thou  now  sole  hope  and  solace  of  my  sad 
Old  age, —  thou  now  upon  whose  shoulders  rest  ^° 
Latinus'  empire  and  good  name  and  all 
His  tottering  house,  forbear  the  fight  with  Troy ! 
For  in  that  combat  whatsoever  fate 
Await  thee,  Turnus,  doth  await  me  too. 
With  thee  will  I  give  o'er  the  life  I  else 
Should  loathe ;  nor  will  I  e'er,  a  captive,  look 
Upon  ^neas  as  my  son-in-law." 

Echoes  Lavinia  back  her  mother's  words, 


BOOK  xn. 


393 


Her  crimsoning  face  adrip  with  tears,  and  deep 

The  blush  that  burns  beneath  her  blazing  cheeks,  90 

Suffusing  them.   With  blood-red  purple  so 

Might  one  tinge  ivory  j  so  amid  a  mass 

Of  roses  might  white  lilies  flush  —  so  bright 

The  color  of  the  maiden's  cheek.    Love  thrills 

The  warrior,  and  his  eyes  cannot  let  go  9S 

The  girl.    He  burns  the  hotter  for  the  fight, 

And  to  Amata  briefly  answers  thus  : 

"I  beg  thte,  mother,  not  with  tears  and  these 

Ill-omened  partings  follow  me,  as  forth 

Into  the  battle's  stern  appeal  I  fare  : 

The  stay  of  death  is  not  at  Turnus'  will. 

Idmon,  be  herald  thou,  and  bear  these  words 

Of  mine  unto  the  Phrygian  tyrant,  though 

They  please  him  not :  —  To-morrow,  soon  as  Dawn, 

Borne  in  her  crimson  car,  shall  flush  the  east, 

Let  him  not  lead  against  the  Rutuli 

The  Trojan  charge,  but  leave  them  both  at  rest, 

While  in  his  blood  or  mine  we  end  the  war ; 

Lavinia's  hand  be  his,  who  conquers  there !  " 

Soon  as  he  speaks  he  hastily  goes  forth,  "° 
Calls  for  his  steeds,  and  gazes  in  delight 
To  see  them  champ  their  bits  before  his  face. 
Them  Orithyia  to  Pilumnus  gave 
As  mark  of  her  esteem,  —  whiter  than  snow 
And  swifter  than  the  wind  :  about  them  stand  "S 
The  busy  grooms,  who  pat  with  open  palm 
Their  swelling  chests,  and  comb  their  flowing  manes. 
He  o'er  his  shoulders  flings  his  coat  of  mail, 
Heavy  with  rings  of  gold  and  shining  brass ; 


394 


THE  iENEID. 


Buckles  at  easy  reach  his  sword,  and  puts  ^**» 

His  buckler  and  his  red-plumed  helmet  on. 

It  was  a  sword  the  God  of  Fire  himself 

Had  for  his  father  Daunus  made,  and  dipped 

At  white  heat  in  the  Stygian  pool.    He  lifts 

With  lusty  grasp  his  mighty  spear  that  leans 

'Gainst  a  huge  pillar  in  the  inner  court  — 

The  spear  was  Actor  the  Auruncan's  once, 

A  battle-spoil.    He  shakes  the  quivering  shaft, 

And  cries :  "  Now,  thou  good  spear,  that  never  failed 

My  summons  yet,  the  hour  hath  come  !  The  hand  '3o 

Of  Turnus  now  wields  thee,  whom  once  the  hand 

Of  mighty  Actor  wielded.    Help  thou  lay 

The  body  of  this  Phrygian  weakling  low ! 

With  stout  grip  tear  his  shattered  coat  of  mail. 

And  drag  in  dust  the  locks,  that  now  with  myrrh  ^35 

Are  scented,  and  around  hot  irons  curled." 

Such  is  the  fury  of  his  mood,  that  sparks 

Of  fire  stream  off  his  blazing  face  ;  with  flame 

His  fierce  eyes  flash.    So,  ere  encounter,  roars 

An  angr}^  bull :  to  feed  his  rage  he  rubs 

His  horns  against  a  tree ;  he  butts  the  wind. 

And  ploughs  the  sand  in  prelude  to  the  fight. 

In  the  brave  armor  that  his  mother  gave, 
u^Eneas  for  the  combat  glows  no  less  : 
He  lashes  him  to  fury,  glad  to  end 
The  war  upon  the  proffered  terms.    His  friends' 
And  sad  lulus'  fears  he  sets  at  rest. 
Revealing  them  the  fates,  and  bids  his  men 
Bear  king  Latinus  definite  reply. 
And  fix  with  him  upon  the  terms  of  peace.  ^5° 


V 


Jtmo. 

the  Vatican. 


BOOK  XII. 


395 


Scarce  was  the  morrow's  dawn  illumining 
I'he  mountain  peaks,  —  scarce  from  the  ocean's  depths 
The  horses  of  the  Sun  leapt  up  and  breathed 
Fire  from  their  panting  nostrils,  when  went  forth 
Trojans  and  Rutuli  alike  to  set  ^ss 
Lists  for  the  fight,  and,  in  the  centre,  hearths 
And  grassy  altars  for  their  common  gods  ; 
While  some,  with  aprons  bound,  and  garlanded 
With  chaplets,  fire  and  water  brought.  Advance 
From  out  the  crowded  gates  the  Italian  host 
And  pour  its  dart-armed  columns  o'er  the  plain. 
Upon  the  other  side,  the  whole  array,  — 
Trojan  and  Tyrrhene  armies,  —  quick  move  up 
Beneath  their  various  standards  :  —  all  equipped 
No  less  than  if  stern  battle  called  to  arms.  ^^s 
Amid  the  ranks,  the  chiefs  ride  to  and  fro. 
In  gold  and  purple  glittering,  —  Mnestheus  there, 
Descendant  of  Assaracus ;  there  brave 
Asylas ;  there  Messapus,  tamer  he 
Of  steeds,  and  son  of  Neptune.    At  a  sign,  ^70 
Each  to  his  own  position  moves,  and  there 
They  in  the  earth  set  up  their  spears,  and  lay 
Their  shields  upon  the  grass.    Eager  to  see, 
The  women  next,  the  idle  crowd,  the  weak 
Old  men  beset  each  roof  and  tower,  while  some  ^75 
Stand  on  the  very  summits  of  the  gates. 

Meantime  from  what  is  now  Mount  Alban  called  — 
'Twas  then  a  hill  with  neither  honor,  name, 
Nor  glory — Juno,  looking  from  the  height. 
Surveyed  the  field,  the  battle  lines  alike  »*» 
Of  Latin  and  of  Trojan,  and  the  town 


396 


THE  ^NEID. 


Of  king  Latinus.    Quickly  thus  she  spake  — 

Goddess  to  naiad  —  to  Turnus'  sister,  who 

Is  genius  of  the  lake  and  rippling  stream,  — 

An  honor  Jove,  high  king  of  heaven,  conferred  ^^s 

Upon  her  for  her  lost  virginity : 

"  O  nymph,  thou  river  beauty,  thou  so  dear 

Unto  my  soul,  thou  know'st  that  thee  alone 

I  did  prefer  of  all  the  Latin  girls 

Uplifted  to  great  Jove's  ungrateful  bed,  '9o 

And  gladly  gave  thee  room  in  heaven.    Learn  thou, 

Juturna,  of  the  grief  —  nor  blame  me  for't  — 

That  waits  thee.    Long  as  fortune  suffered  me. 

Or  fate  did  let  the  Latin  state  go  on, 

I  guarded  Turnus  and  thy  house.    The  time  ^9S 

Now  comes  when  I  look  on  the  youth  and  lo ! 

He  struggles  with  o'ermastering  odds :  the  day 

Of  doom,  the  inexorable  blow  is  nigh. 

I  cannot  gaze  upon  the  fight,  nor  stand 

This  compact.    If  thou  for  thy  brother's  sake  ^oo 

Dar'st  strike  at  once,  go  thou  as  go  thou  should'st, 

And  so  some  better  issue  may  attend 

Perchance  our  grief."  Scarce  this  she  spake, when  burst 

A  flood  of  tears  from  forth  Juturna's  eyes, 

And  thrice  and  four  times  she  her  fair  breast  smote,  ^os 

"Not  this,"  Saturnian  Juno  cried,  "the  time 

For  tears  !    Haste  thou,  and,  if  there  be  a  way, 

Thy  brother  snatch  from  death !    Stir  up  bad  blood. 

Break  off  the  compact  they  have  made,  and  me 

Count  backer  of  the  mischief."    Thus  she  urged,  ^lo 

Then  left  Juturna  hesitating  still. 

Her  heart  distraught  with  bitter  agony. 


BOOK  XII. 


397 


Meantime  the  royal  companies  move  out. 
Latinus  in  his  four-horse  chariot  rides 
In  great  magnificence.    Twelve  golden  spikes  215 
His  glittering  temples  crown  and  typify 
His  ancestor  the  sun.    But  Turnus'  car 
Is  drawn  by  two  white  steeds,  and  in  his  hand 
He  brandishes  two  broad-point  spears.    So,  too. 
Father  ^neas,  fount  of  Roman  stock,  220 
Bright  in  his  starry  shield  and  heaven-forged  arms, 
Advances  from  his  camp,  and  at  his  side 
Ascanius  comes,  who,  next  to  him,  is  now 
The  hope  of  Rome.    Robed  in  pure  white,  a  priest 
Has  brought  a  bristly  pig  and  unshorn  sheep,  ^25 
And  laid  the  victims  on  the  blazing  shrines. 
Turning  their  faces  to  the  rising  sun. 
They  sprinkle  from  their  hands  the  salted  meal. 
Cut  with  their  knives  the  forelocks  of  the  beasts, 
And  their  libations  on  the  altar  pour.  230 

Then  reverent  ^neas  drew  his  sword 
And  thus  he  prayed  :   "  Now  witness  thou  my  vow, 
O  Sun  ;  and  thou,  the  soil  on  which  I  stand 
And  for  whose  sake  I  have  endured  so  much ; 
Thou  too.  Almighty  Father ;  thou,  I  beg,  235 
Saturnian  Juno,  kinder  goddess  now ; 
Thou,  valiant  father  Mars,  who  at  thy  will 
Determinest  all  wars ;  nay,  I  invoke 
All  founts  and  streams,  whatever  deities 
In  upper  air,  or  powers  in  azure  deep  240 
There  be  :  —  if  victory  now  shall  hap  to  fall 
To  Turnus  of  Ausonia,  be  it  then 
Agreed  that  vanquished  we  depart  and  go 


398 


THE  ^NEID. 


Unto  Evander's  walls,  —  lulus  yield 

The  land,  —  and  henceforth  not  a  Trojan  lift  ^45 

Rebellious  arms  or  raise  his  sword  against 

This  realm.    But  if  the  victory  shall  declare 

The  field  our  own  —  as  so  I  think  it  will, 

As  so  the  will  is  of  the  gods  —  I  ne'er 

Will  make  the  Italians  slaves  to  Troy,  nor  seek  ^so 

For  empire  for  myself  !    No,  then  let  both 

The  unconquered  races  in  eternal  league 

On  equal  terms  unite.    Mine  shall  it  be 

To  regulate  the  worship  of  the  gods : 

But  let  Latinus,  father  mine  in-law,  255 

Retain  the  sword  and  empire  of  the  state : 

For  me  a  city  shall  the  Trojans  build. 

To  which  Lavinia  shall  her  own  name  give." 

Thus  spake  ^neas  first.    Latinus  then 
In  this  wise  followed  him,  his  eyes  to  heaven  260 
Uplifted,  and  his  right  hand  toward  the  stars : 
"  So  swear  I  too,  so  help  me  Earth  and  Sea 
And  Stars,  ^neas !  By  Latona's  twins 
I  swear  it,  and  by  Janus'  double  face  ; 
I  swear  it  by  the  infernal  powers  below, 
And  by  grim  Pluto's  shrines.    Let  Jupiter 
Give  ear,  who  with  the  thunder  sanctifies 
The  given  word.    I  on  the  altar  lay 
My  hand :  these  common  fires  and  deities 
I  call  to  witness :  —  Henceforth  Italy  270 
Shall  never  break  our  peace,  come  what  come  may. 
No  power  shall  change  my  will,  not  though  the  earth 
It  deluge  and  o'erwhelm  beneath  the  flood. 
Or  mingle  heaven  and  hell.     Sooner  shall  put 


BOOK  XII. 


399 


This  sceptre  forth  " — for  he  a  sceptre  chanced  275 

In  his  right  hand  to  hold — "itst  tender  leaves 

And  shade,  though  of  the  parent  tree  bereft, 

Cut  in  the  woods  e'en  from  the  very  root. 

And  of  its  limbs  and  foliage  stripped  —  no  more 

A  living  shoot,  for  now  the  artist's  hand  *2<» 

Hath  feruled  it  with  ornaments  of  brass. 

And  given  it  unto  Latium's  king  to  wear." 

Such  were  the  words  with  which  they  ratify 
Their  compact  in  the  presence  of  the  chiefs. 
Then,  in  due  form,  the  sacred  victims'  throats 
They  cut,  rip  the  still  quivering  flesh,  and  load 
The  altars  with  o'erflowing  platters-full. 

Long  ere  this,  seems  it  to  the  Rutuli 
No  equal  fight ;  and  mingled  feelings  thrill 
Their  breasts,  the  more  that  at  near  hand  they  see^?^ 
The  combatants'  disparity  of  strength. 
It  heightens  their  alarm  that  Turnus  walks 
With  silent  step,  and  bows  with  downcast  eyes 
Before  the  altars  like  a  suppliant  there. 
His  cheeks  all  wan,  his  manly  face  so  pale. 
Soon  as  Juturna,  Turnus'  sister,  sees 
This  feeling  gaining  ground,  and  wavering  now 
The  faint  heart  of  the  crowd,  amid  the  throng 
She  mingles,  conscious  of  the  turn  of  things : 
The  form  of  Gamers  she  assumes, —  a  man  300 
Of  proud  and  ancient  stock,  his  father's  name 
Illustrious  once  in  valor's  list,  and  he 
A  valiant  soldier.    There  a  thousand  tales 
She  spreads,  and  thus  she  speaks :  "  O  Rutuli, 
Is't  not  a  shame  to  sacrifice  one  life  305 


400 


THE  i^lNEID. 


For  all  the  rest  ?    In  numbers  and  in  strength 

Do  we  not  equal  them  ?    Lo  !  here  all  Troy 

And  all  Arcadia  in  our  front  arrayed, 

Etruria's  fated  host  and  Turnus'  foes, 

Scarce  half  enough  to  fight  us  man  to  man !  310 

What  though  he  go  in  glory  to  the  gods, 

Unto  whose  altars  he  is  consecrate, 

And  live  immortal  in  the  mouths  of  men 

If,  robbed  of  native  land,  which  now  in  peace 

We  hold,  we  then  must  serve  these  haughty  lords  !  "  315 

Already  more  and  more  by  such  harangues 
The  soldiers'  hearts  are  fired ;  from  rank  to  rank 
The  murmur  creeps  and,  one  and  all  at  last, 
Both  Latins  and  Laurentians  change  their  minds. 
They,  who  but  late  hoped  for  surcease  of  war  320 
And  for  the  state's  security,  now  call 
To  arms,  and  shout  to  have  the  compact  broke, 
And  say  they  pity  Turnus'  cruel  fate. 
Another  and  a  greater  influence  still 
Juturna  adds  — an  omen  from  on  high :  32s 
No  apter  e'er  alarmed  Italian  hearts 
Or  tricked  them  with  its  wondrousness.    For  thwart 
The  reddened  sky  the  fiery  bird  of  Jove 
Flies  down,  chasing  a  squalling,  fluttering  flock 
Of  water-fowl,  till,  with  a  sudden  swoop  330 
To  ocean,  savagely  the  fairest  swan 
He  clutches  in  his  claws.    The  Italians  gaze 
Intent,  when  lo  !  the  birds  with  shrill  cries  turn, — 
Strange  sight !  —  and  darken  with  their  wings  the  sky  ; 
They  gather  like  a  cloud  and  through  the  air  335 
Pursue  their  foe,  till,  overcome  at  last 


BOOK  XII. 


401 


By  their  attack  and  his  own  weight,  he  tires, 
Drops  from  his  clutches  in  the  stream  his  prey. 
And  flies  far  out  of  sight  among  the  clouds. 

At  this,  the  Rutuli  with  shouts  salute  340 
The  omen,  and  their  hands  lay  on  their  steel. 
Augur  Tolumnius  is  the  first  to  speak  : 
"  This,  this  it  was  that  in  my  vows  I  sought. 
And  now  I  see,  I  recognize  the  gods. 
With  me  to  lead  you  on,  unsheathe  your  swords,  34s 
Rutulians,  whom  this  robber  from  abroad 
Attacks  and  terrifies  like  feeble  birds,  — 
The  ruthless  plunderer  of  your  shores  !    He  too 
Shall  fly  and  spread  his  sails  far  out  to  sea. 
Close  up  your  ranks,  one  purpose  in  your  souls,  350 
And  rescue  from  the  fight  your  victim  king ! " 
And  at  the  word,  advancing  from  the  front, 
He  hurled  his  javelin  at  the  enemy's  lines. 
The  whizzing  shaft  did  shriek  as  straight  it  cut 
Its  pathway  through  the  air.    As  forth  it  sped,  355 
A  mighty  yell  went  up :  from  line  to  line 
The  riot  ran  j  each  heart  beat  hot  and  hard. 
On  flew  the  spear.    Chanced  in  its  way,  the  forms 
Of  nine  fair  brothers  stood,  whom  one  good  wife  — 
The  Tuscan  mother  of  so  many  sons —  360 
Had  borne  Gylippus  the  Arcadian  chief. 
The  ribs  of  one  of  these  it  pierced  —  a  youth 
Of  noble  mien  in  glittering  armor  clad  — 
Just  midway  where  the  embroidered  belt  rests  down 
Upon  the  belly  and  the  buckle  clasps  365 
Its  ends,  and  stretched  him  on  the  yellow  sands. 
The  brothers  start,  a  fiery  phalanx  mad 
26 


402 


THE  iENEID. 


With  grief ;  part  draw  their  swords,  part  snatch  their 
spears, 

And  blindly  charge.    Laurentum's  hosts  advance 
To  beat  them  back,  while  to  their  aid  a  rush  370 
Of  Agyllini  and  of  Trojans  swarm, 
And  of  Arcadians  with  their  painted  shields. 

Thus  doth  one  common  craze  fire  all  to  put 
The  issue  to  the  sword.    They  strip  the  shrines : 
O'er  the  whole  heaven  there  sweeps  a  murky  storm  37s 
Of  missiles,  and  the  iron  hail  falls  thick 
And  fast.    They  bear  away  the  bowls  and  hearths. 
Latinus  flies,  himself  regathering  up 
His  gods  insulted  at  this  breach  of  faith. 
The  rest  their  chariots  yoke,  or  at  a  bound  380 
Leap  on  their  steeds,  draw  sword,  and  form  in  line. 
Eager  to  break  the  truce,  Messapus  spurs 
His  charger  in  Aulestes'  face  to  fright 
Him  back  —  a  Tuscan  king  he  was,  who  wore 
The  signs  of  royalty.    As  he  retreats,  385 
Unluckily  he  stumbles  mid  the  shrines 
Behind  his  back,  and  falls  upon  his  head 
And  shoulders  :  up  Messapus  hotly  flies 
With  spear  in  hand,  and  deaf  to  every  prayer. 
High  on  his  steed  his  heavy  steel  thrusts  hard :  390 
"  So  much  for  him.    A  better  victim  this  " 
He  cries,  "to  feed  the  shrines  of  mighty  gods." 
The  Italians  rush  and  strip  the  yet  warm  corse. 

From  off  the  altar  Chorinaeus  grasps 
A  burning  brand,  and,  fronting  Ebusus,  39s 
Dashes  the  flames  into  his  face  as  he 
Comes  up  to  strike  a  blow.    His  monstrous  beard 


BOOK  XIL 


403 


Stinks  as  it  burns,  and  blazes  all  abroad. 

The  other  follows,  twines  his  left  hand  midst 

His  frightened  foeman's  hair,  and  to  the  earth  400 

Dashes  him  down.    There  held  beneath  his  knee, 

He  with  his  dagger  stabs  him  in  the  side. 

With  drawn  sword  Podilarius  overtakes 

The  shepherd  Alsus,  close  upon  his  heels 

As  through  the  battle  van  and  storm  he  flies :  405 

But  he,  his  axe  drawn  back,  splits  half  and  half 

From  brow  to  chin  his  foe's  o'er-leaning  face, 

And  floods  his  armor  right  and  left  with  spurts 

Of  blood.    In  endless  rest,  in  iron  sleep. 

His  eyes  are  shut,  locked  in  eternal  night.  410 

Pious  -^neas  stretched  his  unarmed  hand^ 
And,  helmet  off,  thus  shouted  to  his  men  : 
"  What  means  this  rush  ?    What  is  this  strife  that 
springs 

So  sudden  up  ?    Your  passions  curb  !    For  now 
The  compact  hath  been  sealed,  and  all  its  terms  415 
Agreed.    To  me  alone  the  fight  belongs. 
Leave  it  to  me  and  have  no  fear !    My  hand 
Shall  make  my  challenge  good.    Turnus  is  mine 
By  all  these  sacred  rites."    As  thus  he  spake, 
Ere  half  was  spoken,  lo  !  a  whizzing  bolt  420 
Struck  down  the  hero,  though  none  ever  knew 
Whose  hand  'twas  shot,  whose  bow-string  drove  it 
home. 

Or  whether  god  or  chance  did  bring  so  great 

An  honor  to  the  Rutuli.  Unclaimed 

The  glory  of  that  famous  blow, —  no  man  425 

Dared  boast  'twas  he  that  did  ^neas  wound. 


404 


THE  ^NEID. 


Turnus  no  sooner  sees  ^neas  fall, 
And  the  confusion  of  his  staff,  than  hot 
With  sudden  hope,  he  kindles  for  the  fight. 
He  shouts  to  have  at  once  his  steeds  and  arms,  430 
Springs  fiercely  at  a  bound  into  his  car. 
And  grasps  in  his  own  hands  the  reins.    In  death 
He  stretches  many  a  soldier's  body  brave. 
As  on  he  speeds  ;  o'er  heaps  of  dying  rides ; 
Crushes  beneath  his  wheels  rank  after  rank ;  43s 
Or,  as  they  fly,  hurls  after  them  the  spears 
He  spoils  them  of.    So  by  cool  Hebrus'  stream 
Doth  bloody  Mars,  to  stir  the  fight,  fierce  beat 
His  shield,  and  give  his  furious  coursers  rein : 
They  on  the  open  field  outstrip  the  winds  —  440 
South  Wind  or  West :  pulses  remotest  Thrace 
Beneath  the  beating  of  their  hoofs ;  round  him. 
Companions  of  the  god.  Fear's  scowling  face 
And  Rage  and  Treachery  press  on.    So  through 
The  battle  Turnus  drives  his  steeds,  that  reek  445 
With  sweat,  trampling  the  wretched,  slaughtered  foe : 
His  swift  wheels  fling  a  spray  of  blood ;  blood  soaks 
His  courser's  hoof-prints  in  the  sand.    And  now 
He  lays  low  Sthenelus  and  Thamyris 
And  Pholus,  hand  to  hand  the  latter  twain,  450 
The  other  at  long  range :  at  long  range  too 
Glaucus  and  Lades,  sons  whom  Imbrasus 
Had  raised  in  Lycia  and  had  armed  alike 
To  fight  on  foot  or  to  outride  the  wind. 

Eumedes  from  another  quarter  rides  4ss 
Into  the  centre  of  the  fight  —  a  son 
Of  rare  old  Dolon  and  renowned  in  war. 


BOOK  Xli. 


His  grandsire's  name  he  bore, —  in  heart  and  hand 

More  like  his  father  who,  sent  as  a  spy 

Into  the  Grecian  camp,  made  bold  to  ask 

Achilles'  chariot  for  his  recompense  : 

But  Diomed  paid  him  in  other  coin 

For  his  effrontery ;  no  more  he  claims 

Achilles'  steeds.    His  son  it  is,  whom  now 

Turnus  sees  fronting  him  upon  the  field.  465 

First  hurling  from  afar  his  slender  spear, 

He  checks  his  steeds,  leaps  from  his  chariot  down, 

And  comes  upon  his  dying,  falling  foe 

Whose  neck  he  tramples  under  foot,  twists  out 

The  dagger  from  his  hand,  and  in  his  throat  47° 

Deep  stains  its  shining  blade :  o'er  him  he  shouts : 

"  Lo,  Trojan !  these  the  fields,  this  the  Italy, 

Which  thou  hast  sought  in  war  and  which  at  last 

Thou  measurest  with  thy  length  !  this  the  reward 

They  win,  who  dare  cross  swords  with  me  !  'Tis  thus  47s 

Ye  lay  foundations  for  your  walls !  "  Again 

He  hurls  his  spear  and  sends  Asbutes  next 

To  bear  Eumedes  company ;  to  them 

Adds  Chloreus,  Sybaris,  Thersilochus, 

And  Dares,  and  Thymoetes  as  he  falls  480 

From  off  his  plunging  courser's  neck.    The  blasts 

Of  Thracian  Boreas  do  not  fiercer  roar 

O'er  the  ^gean  sea,  dashing  the  waves 

Against  the  cliffs,  driving  the  clouds  athwart 

The  sky  where'er  it  lists  the  winds  to  blow.  485 

So  Turnus  cuts  his  way,  and  where  he  comes 

Whole  lines  break  ranks  and  routed  squadrons  fly : 

The  fury  of  his  onset  clears  the  field. 


4o6 


THE  yENEID. 


The  breezes,  as  he  cleaves  them  with  his  car, 
Toss  back  his  fluttering  plumes.  Too  bold  his  charge,  49© 
Too  fierce  his  soul  for  Phegeus  to  engage, 
Who  flings  himself  before  the  chariot  wheels. 
And  with  his  right  hand  on  the  foaming  bits 
Turns  back  the  heads  of  those  swift-charging  steeds. 
For  while  he  tugs,  and  hangs  upon  the  yoke,  49s 
The  broad  blade  strikes  his  unprotected  side. 
And  tears  and  bores  his  double  coat  of  mail, 
And  gashes  through  the  skin.    He,  with  his  shield 
Upraised,  still  turns  upon  his  foe  and  seeks, 
His  sword  drawn  back,  to  strike  and  save  himself,  soo 
Too  late !  the  wheel  and  swift-revolving  hub 
Throw  him  headforemost  sprawling  on  ^the  ground, 
While  Turnus,  passing  with  his  sword,  cuts  ofi 
The  head  betwixt  the  breastplate  and  the  helm. 
And  leaves  the  severed  trunk  upon  the  sand.  sos 

While  the  victorious  Turnus  litters  thus 
The  battle-field  with  death,  in  the  mean  time 
Mnestheus,  faithful  Achates,  and  the  boy 
Ascanius  in  their  company,  have  led 
-^neas  to  his  tent,  bedrenched  with  blood, 
Leaning  his  weight  at  each  alternate  step 
On  his  long  spear.    He  frets,  and  tries  to  draw 
The  broken  arrow-head  from  out  the  wound. 
He  bids  them  take  the  nearest  way  for  help ; 
Bids  with  a  broadsword  lay  the  gash  apart,  s^s 
Probe  to  . the  very  hiding  of  the  barb. 
And  send  him  to  the  battle  back  again. 

It  happed  lapis,  son  of  lasius  he, 
Whom  Phoebus  loved  more  than  all  other  men, 


BOOK  XII. 


407 


Was  on  the  spot.    To  him  Apollo  once,  s^o 

Seized  with  excessive  fondness,  laughing  gave 

The  arts  and  gifts  that  are  his  own — the  power 

Of  prophecy,  music,  and  the  archer's  skill. 

But  he,  so  he  his  dying  father's  life 

Might  eke,  chose  rather  to  be  taught  the  use  S25 

Of  herbs,  the  art  of  cure,  and  to  be  trained 

In  homely  and  inglorious  knowledges. 

There  stood  ^neas,  chafing  angrily 

And  leaning  on  his  mighty  battle-spear. 

Nor  all  the  chiefs  that  round  him  densely  thronged,  sso 

Nor  sorrowing  lulus'  sobs,  had  power 

To  move  him  from  the  spot.    In  vain,  his  robe 

Thrown  back  and  knotted  in  Paeonian  style. 

The  old  leech,  skilful  though  his  fingers  were. 

And  powerful  Apollo's  remedies,  535 

Kept  probing  nervously  ;  in  vain  he  pulled 

The  arrow  with  his  hand,  and  nipped  the  barb 

With  his  stout  forceps.    Fortune  showed  no  way, 

Nor  ever  came  Apollo  there  to  help ; 

But  fiercer,  fiercer  from  the  field  the  din  540 

Of  battle  grows,  and  nears  and  nears  defeat. 

E'en  as  they  gaze,  the  air  is  stiff  with  dust, 

The  cavalry  come  riding  back ;  thick  fall 

The  arrows  in  the  centre  of  the  camp, 

And  sadly  mingle  in  the  air  the  cries  545 

Of  those  who  fight,  the  groans  of  those  who  fall. 

'Twas  then  his  mother,  Venus,  shocked  to  see 
Her  son  in  agony  so  undeserved. 
From  Cretan  Ida  plucked  the  dittany. 
Its  stalk  ablaze  with  feathery  leaves  and  flowers  S5« 


4o8 


THE  ^NEID. 


Of  purple  hue,  on  which  the  wild  goats  wont 

To  feed  when  the  swift  arrows  pierce  their  skin. 

This  Venus  brings,  enveloped  in  a  cloud : 

An  unseen  nurse,  she  in  the  shining  vat 

Instils  its  juice  j  ambrosial,  balmy  dews  sss 

And  the  sweet  all-heal  herb  she  sprinkles.  Old 

lapis  bathes  the  cut,  though  he  wots  not 

The  lotion,  until  suddenly  all  pain 

Hath  from  the  body  fled,  and  not  a  drop 

E'en  from  the  bottom  of  the  wound  flows  more.  s6o 

The  arrow,  following  now  the  leech's  hand. 

Falls  out  of  its  own  will ;  and  strength  comes  back 

Again,  restored  to  all  it  was  before. 

"  Quick  fetch  the  hero's  arms !  Why  stand  ye  still  ?  " 

lapis  cries,  —  the  first  to  fire  their  souls  s6s 

To  face  again  the  foe.    "  Not  this  the  work 

Of  human  power,  or  master's  skill !    Not  mine 

The  hand,  ^neas,  that  hath  saved  thy  life ! 

Some  god,  more  powerful  far,  hath  done  this  thing. 

And  lent  thee  to  a  nobler  destiny."  S7o 

He,  eager  for  the  fray,  his  golden  greaves 
Already  had  laced  up  on  either  side. 
He  cannot  brook  delay,  but  waves  his  spear. 
And  when  his  shield  is  buckled  on  his  side, 
His  mail  across  his  breast,  with  arms  outstretched  S75 
He  folds  Ascanius  close,  and,  kissing  him 
Betwixt  his  helmet-bars,  bespeaks  him  thus : 
"  From  me  learn  courage  and  true  patience,  boy ;  — 
Success  from  others  !    Now  shall  my  right  hand 
Defend  thee  from  the  fight,  and  lead  thee  on  ssc 
To  great  rewards.    Henceforth  remember  me 


BOOK  XII. 


409 


When,  quickly  now,  thou  shalt  to  manhood  come ; 

Lay  to  thy  heart  the  examples  of  thy  sires  ; 

And  let  ^neas  e'er  and  Hector  e'er, 

Thy  father  and  thy  uncle,  fire  thy  soul !  "  sss 

No  sooner  spake  than  haughtily  he  strode 
From  out  the  gate,  and  brandished  in  his  hand 
His  mighty  spear.    At  the  same  time,  their  ranks 
Fast  closing  up,  Antheus  and  Mnestheus  charge. 
The  whole  host  deluge  from  the  abandoned  camp :  59« 
The  battle-field  is  hid  in  clouds  of  dust ; 
The  trembling  earth  throbs  'neath  the  tramp  of  steeds. 
From  off  the  ground  that  rises  in  their  front 
Turnus  beholds  them  come:  the  Italians  gaze, 
And  a  cold  shudder  thrills  their  very  bones.  595 
In  terror  from  the  field  Juturna  flies  — 
First  of  the  Latins  she  to  hear  and  know 
That  sound  of  doom.    JEneas  rides  on  wings, 
And  pricks  his  swarthy  squadrons  to  the  field. 
So  when  the  sky  is  rent,  the  hurricane  ^ 
Across  mid-ocean  sweeps  upon  the  shore : 
Long  ere  it  strikes,  the  wretched  peasants'  souls 
Alas  !  foreknow  and  shudder  at  the  waste 
And  blight  'twill  bring  on  orchard  and  on  crops  — 
The  ruin  it  will  scatter  far  and  wide :  605 
The  winds  fly  on  before  and  sound  the  alarm 
Along  the  coast.    So  leads  the  Trojan  chief 
His  columns  'gainst  the  foe.    In  wedges  formed, 
Shoulder  to  shoulder  they  their  ranks  close  up. 
Thymbraeus  hews  the  great  Osiris  down  ; 
Archetius  by  the  hand  of  Mnestheus  falls ; 
Ufens  by  Gyas'  hand,  and  Epulo 


THE  iENEID. 


By  Achates.'    Falls  Tolumnius  himself, 

Who  was  the  first  against  the  foe  to  hurl 

His  spear.    Up  goes  the  battle  shout,  and  now,  ^iS 

Routed  in  turn,  the  Rutuli  give  way 

And  show  their  dusty  backs  across  the  field. 

^neas  neither  deigns  to  slaughter  those 

Who  fly,  nor  charge  at  those  who  in  fair  fight 

Engage  afoot,  or  those  who  missiles  hurl  ^^o 

From  far.    Turnus  alone,  he  peers  to  find 

Through  that  dense  cloud  of  dust.    Turnus  alone 

He  challenges  to  meet  him  in  the  lists. 

Heroic,  yet  in  terror  at  the  scene, 
Juturna  hurls,  head-over  'twixt  the  reins, 
Metiscus,  charioteer  of  Turnus'  car, 
Who  from  the  draught-tree  slips,  left  far  behind. 
She  takes  his  place  and  gathers  in  her  hands 
The  quivering  reins,  assuming  perfectly 
Metiscus'  armor,  voice,  and  shape.    As  through*  ^30 
The  spacious  palace  of  some  princely  lord 
The  dusky  swallow  skims,  and  round  and  round 
Its  lofty  arches  circles,  gathering  crumbs 
To  feed  its  clamorous  young,  now  twittering  'neath 
The  vacant  porticos,  and  now  along  635 
The  dewy  fields,  so  drives  Juturna  mid 
The  squadrons  of  the  foe,  and  bird-like  wheels 
Her  swift  car  everywhere  — now  here,  now  there. 
She  her  exulting  brother  lets  them  see. 
But  ne'er  to  the  encounter  lets  him  go,  ^ 
Forever  flitting  out  of  danger's  way. 

Yet  none  the  less,  -^neas,  in  pursuit, 
Traces  the  network  of  her  roundabouts, 


BOOK  XII. 


411 


And  tracks  his  enemy  whom,  from  the  hosts 

That  scatter  as  he  comes,  he  challenges 

With  all  his  lungs.    Yet  never  sets  he  eyes 

On  his  antagonist,  or  strains  the  speed 

Of  his  winged  coursers,  but  Juturna  wheels 

Her  chariot  e'er  as  oft  the  other  way. 

Alas  !  what  can  he  do  ?    Blinded  with  rage  ^so 

He  knows  not  where  to  turn,  so  many  needs 

Distract  his  soul.    'Twas  then  Messapus  happed, 

As  he  sped  swiftly  by,  in  his  left  hand 

To  bear  two  slender  spears  with  iron  heads ; 

And  one  of  them  with  sure-directed  aim  ^ss 

He  threw,    ^neas  shrank  behind  his  shield. 

And  rested  stooping  on  his  knee.    And  yet 

The  hungry  javelin  grazed  his  helmet  top, 

And  cut  the  plumes  above  his  head.    Then  burst 

His  rage  indeed.    Wroth  at  the  treachery,  ^^o 

And  conscious  now  that  steed  and  car  do  but 

Elude  him,  he  with  many  an  oath  by  Jove 

And  by  the  altars  of  that  broken  truce. 

Charges  at  last  the  centre  of  the  foe. 

Resistless,  terrible  in  victory  now,  665 

He  recks  not  where  the  awful  slaughter  falls. 

But  gives  unbridled  license  to  his  wrath. 

Who  now  the  god,  whose  song  shall  tell  the  tale  — 
The  horrors  of  the  scene,  the  mingling  dead. 
The  fall  of  chiefs  whom,  over  all  that  field, 
Now  Turnus,  now  in  turn  Troy's  hero  strikes } 
Did'st  will,  O  Jove,  that  nations,  yet  to  share 
Eternal  peace,  in  such  a  shock  should  meet  ? 

No  moment  lost  —  'twas  this  that  rallied  first 


412 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  Trojans  to  the  fight  —  ^neas  lunged  ^75 

At  Sucro  the  Rutulian's  side,  and  drove 

His  naked  sword  through  ribs  and  midriff  where 

The  road  to  death  is  shortest.    Though  on  foot, 

Turnus  attacks  and  from  the  saddle  hurls 

Diores  and  his  brother  Amycus ; 

One,  as  they  come,  with  his  long  spear  he  nails. 

The  other  with  his  sword, —  then  from  his  car 

Hangs  both  their  heads  that  trickle  with  their  blood. 

^neas  single-handed  —  one  to  three  — 

Kills  Talus,  Tanais,  and  Cethegus  bold,  685 

And  glum  Onytes  with  a  Theban  name 

But  who  of  Peridia  was  the  son. 

Turnus  the  brothers  kills  from  Lycia  sent  — 

Apollo's  land  —  and  the  Arcadian  youth 

Menoetes,  who  in  vain  had  shirked  the  fight ;  ^90 

His  occupation  and  his  modest  home 

Had  been  by  Lerna's  fishy  stream ;  unknown 

To  him  the  mansions  of  the  great,  his  sire 

Scarce  tenant  of  the  acres  he  did  till. 

Like  fires  in  opposite  directions  set  ^95 

Mid  the  parched  woods  and  crackling  laurel  groves, 

Or  swift  descending  streams  among  the  hills 

That  roar  and  foam  and  run  into  the  sea. 

So  madly  Turnus  and  ^neas  charge 

Amid  the  battle-lines,  each  laying  waste  700 

His  way,  while  more  and  more  their  fury  burns ; 

Their  bursting  hearts  have  never  learned  to  cower. 

With  all  their  might  they  cut  the  swath  of  death. 

With  a  huge  rock,  flung  like  a  hurricane, 
.^neas  strikes  and  stretches  on  the  ground  705 


BOOK  XII 


413 


Murranus,  who  did  boast  his  lineage, 

His  old  ancestral  names,  his  blood  that  came 

Unmixed  down  through  the  veins  of  Latin  kings. 

His  car-wheels  roll  him  under  reins  and  pole ; 

And,  heedless  of  their  master's  fate,  his  steeds  710 

Crush  him  beneath  their  fierce  swift-trampling  hoofs. 

As  Hyllus  rushes  up,  his  soul  ablaze. 

Him  Turnus  meets,  and  at  his  gilded  casque 

Hurls  spear :  through  helm  it  goes,  and  in  his  brain 

Is  lodged.    Nor,  Creteus,  bravest  of  the  Greeks,  71s 

Did  thy  right  hand  ward  Turnus  off  from  thee  1 

Nor  did  Cupencus'  guardian  deities 

Him  from  the  onslaught  of  ^neas  save  : 

Poor  wretch,  he  met  the  sword  full  front,  nor  did 

His  brazen  shield  one  heart-beat  profit  him.  720 

Thee  also,  ^olus,  Laurentum's  plains 

Saw  die,  stretched  out,  face  up,  upon  the  sand. 

Thou  fell'st,  whom  ne'er  the  phalanxes  of  Greece, 

Whom  ne'er  Achilles,  though  he  overturned 

The  realm  of  Priam,  had  power  to  kill.    'Twas  here  725 

The  goal  of  life  was  set  for  thee :  beneath 

Mount  Ida's  shadow  was  thy  noble  birth ; 

Thy  lofty  mansion  in  L)nrnessus  stood : 

Thy  sepulchre  is  in  Laurentum's  soil. 

Thus  face  to  face  —  the  Latins  to  a  man,  730 

The  Trojans  to  a  man  —  both  hosts  did  fight ; 

Mnestheus  and  grim  Serestus  there  j  and  there 

Messapus,  tamer  of  the  horse ;  there  brave 

Asylas  ;  there  the  Tuscan  phalanx  j  there 

Evander's  light  Arcadian  cavalry.  735 

Each  for  himself,  with  all  the  might  and  power 


414 


THE  ^NEID. 


He  hath,  doth  each  man  strike.    No  pause,  no  rest. 
In  one  vast  slaughter-pen  they  give  and  take. 

Then  the  fair  mother  of  ^neas  gave 
To  him  a  hint  to  march  upon  the  town,  740 
Divert  his  columns  towards  its  walls,  and  rout 
The  Latins  by  an  unexpected  blow. 
For  while  he  bends  his  gaze  from  point  to  point 
In  search  of  Turnus  mid  the  battling  lines, 
He  sees  the  city  lie  there  undisturbed  74s 
And  from  the  perils  of  the  war  exempt. 
Quick  the  thought  flashes  of  a  bolder  stroke. 
He  summons  him  his  chiefs  —  Serestus  grim. 
And  Mnestheus,  and  Sergestus  —  mounts  a  knoll. 
And,  as  the  other  Trojan  troops  come  up  75° 
And  rest  still  under  shield  and  spear  enmassed, 
Thus,  standing  on  the  earthworks,  speaks  to  them : 
"  Wait  not  upon  my  bidding :  Jupiter 
Is  on  our  side  :  let  no  man  hesitate 
Because  the  enterprise  comes  suddenly !  755 
To-day  this  city  that  hath  fanned  the  war 
Will  I  lay  waste,  nay,  all  Latinus'  realm, 
And  level  with  the  dust  its  smoking  roofs 
If  it  refuse  my  kingship  to  accept 
And,  fairly  beaten,  yield !    Am  I  to  wait  76° 
Forsooth  till  Turnus  please  encounter  me, — 
Till,  vanquished  once,  he  deign  to  fight  once  more  ? 
Here,  soldiers,  stands  the  head  and  front 
Of  this  infernal  war !    Quick,  bring  the  torch ! 
And  claim  fulfilment  of  our  pact  in  fire !  "  765 

Ere  he  had  finished,  every  heart  did  blaze. 
They  form  the  wedge.   Compactly  massed,  they  storm 


BOOK  XII. 


The  walls.    Swift  rise  the  ladders,  and  the  flames 
Burst  sudden  up.    Some  to  the  gates  disperse, 
And  kill  the  sentinels.    Some  missiles  hurl,  770 
And  cloud  the  face  of  heaven  with  javelins. 
vEneas,  in  the  very  van,  uplifts 
His  right  hand  towards  the  walls,  and  in  a  voice 
Of  thunder  bids  Latinus  to  account. 
He  bids  the  gods  bear  witness  he  is  forced  77s 
A  second  time  to  fight  j  a  second  time 
The  Italians  are  his  foes ;  a  second  time 
Have  they  their  contract  broken.    All  panic-struck, 
The  populace  but  wrangle  what  to  do. 
Some  clamor  to  disarm  the  town  and  throw  780 
The  gates  wide  open  to  the  Trojan  lines; 
Even  they  drag  Latinus  to  the  walls. 
Others  belt  on  their  armor  and  go  forth 
The  ramparts  to  defend.    So  to  some  cleft 
Of  rock  the  shepherd  tracks  a  swarm  of  bees :  78s 
With  bitter  smoke  he  fills  it :  they,  pent  up. 
In  terror  for  their  stores,  disperse  amid 
Their  waxen  cells,  and  louder  buzz  the  more 
Their  fury  grows :  the  pungent  flames  roll  through 
Their  hives :  their  hum  sounds  smothered  in  the 
rocks :  790 
The  smoke  pours  out  and  melts  amid  the  air. 

Already  spent,  the  Latins  suffer  yet 
A  fresh  mishap,  that  with  its  horror  thrills 
The  city  through  and  through.    Soon  as  the  queen 
Sees  from  the  roof  the  enemy  advance,  79s 
The  walls  besieged,  the  house-tops  catching  fire, 
And  no  Rutulian  line  of  battle  formed, 


4i6 


THE  iENEID. 


Nor  Tiirnus'  troops  in  sight,  in  her  despair 

She  doubts  not  that  the  youth  is  lying  dead 

Upon  the  field.    Crazed  by  the  sudden  shock, 

She  cries  that  she  hath  been  the  guilty  cause 

And  fount  of  all  their  woes.    Her  reason  gone. 

She  raves  or  moans  incessantly :  she  rends, 

Now  bent  on  death,  her  purple  veil,  and  ties 

The  hideous  death-knot  from  a  lofty  beam. 

Soonever  as  the  a^vful  deed  is  once 

Among  the  wretched  Latin  women  known, 

Lavinia  shrieks,  and  tears  her  flaxen  hair 

And  rosy  cheeks  —  Lavinia  first,  and  then. 

Around  her  clustering,  all  the  rest.    Their  cries 

Ring  high  and  low  throughout  the  house,  whence  swift 

The  harrowing  tidings  spread  about  the  town. 

All  heart  is  lost.    Latinus,  overwhelmed 

At  his  wife's  fate,  and  at  the  city's  fall, 

His  mantle  torn,  his  streaming  beard  defiled 

And  foul  with  dust,  doth  naught  but  blame  himself 

Because  he  hath  not  sooner  recognized 

Dardanian  Eneas'  claims  and  giv'n 

To  him  fair  welcome  as  a  son-in-law. 

On  the  remotest  confines  of  the  field, 
Still  fighting  all  the  while,  Turnus  pursues 
A  straggling  few,  but  with  less  ardor  now, 
And  in  the  victory  of  his  coursers  less 
And  less  delighted ;  for  the  breezes  bring 
A  cry  in  which  a  sense  of  terror  blends ;  ^5 
And  on  his  listening  ear  confusbd  sounds 
And  wailings  from  the  city  fall.    "  Alas  ! 
What  horror  hath  brought  fear  upon  the  town  ? 


BOOK  XII. 


417 


What  wail  is  this  that  floats  from  every  roof  ?  " 
As  thus  he  cries,  uncertain  what  to  do,  ^30 
The  reins  he  tightens  and  stops  short.    But  still 
His  sister  —  ruling  spirit  she  of  car 
And  steed  and  rein,  —  impersonating  still 
The  charioteer  Metiscus,  thwarts  him  thus  : 
"  Turnus,  let  us  the  Trojans  chase  where'er  ^3s 
The  door  of  victory  opens  easiest  j 
Others  there  are  the  city  to  defend, 
^neas  e'er  the  Italians  harasses 
And  storms :  let  us  the  horrors  of  the  war 
Upon  the  Trojans  hurl;  nor  shalt  thou  leave 
The  field  inferior  in  numbers  slain 
Or  in  the  honors  of  the  fight."    To  her 
Turnus  replies  :  "  O  sister,  from  the  first 
I  knew  who  'twas,  when  thou  did'st  artfully 
The  compact  break  and  enter  in  this  fight !  ^^s 
Vain,  nymph,  thy  purpose  to  deceive  me  now ! 
But  who  hath  bid  thee,  from  Olympus  sent, 
Such  labor  undertake  ?    Would'st  thou  look  on 
And  see  thy  wretched  brother's  cruel  death  ? 
What  more  can  I  ?    What  turn  of  fortune  now  ^50 
Can  rescue  me  ?    Before  my  very  eyes 
Beseeching  me,  I  saw  Murranus  die  — 
None  left,  I  love  so  well !  —  a  mighty  man 
Felled  by  a  mighty  wound.    Poor  Ufens  fell. 
Spared  my  disgrace ;  his  body  and  his  arms  ^ss 
Are  in  the  Trojans'  hands.    Can  I  endure  — 
For  nothing  else  is  left  us  —  that  our  homes 
Be  rooted  from  the  soil  ?    Shall  not  this  hand 
Nail  Drances'  insults  lies  ?    I  turn  my  back  I 
26 


4i8 


THE  iENEID. 


This  land  see  Turnus  fly  !    Is  dying  then  86© 
So  hard  ?    Ye  shades  of  death,  to  me  be  kind, 
For  Heaven  hath  turned  its  face  away !    To  you  — • 
My  soul  unstained  and  guiltless  of  this  charge,  — 
Will  I  descend,  worthy  of  my  great  sires  !  " 

Scarce  thus  he  spake,  when  lo  !  on  foaming  steed 
Flies  Sages  through  the  centre  of  the  foe. 
Though  wounded  by  an  arrow  in  the  face, 
Still  forth  he  rides  and  calls  on  Turnus'  name. 
Imploring  him  :    "  Turnus,  on  thee  alone 
Rests  our  last  hope  of  safety.    Pity  thou 
Thy  countrymen  !    ^Eneas  at  the  gates 
Thunders  in  arms,  and  threatens  he  will  raze 
The  citadels  of  Italy  and  lay 
Them  low  in  ruin.    Torches  to  the  roofs 
Already  wing  their  flight.    To  thee  their  eyes,  ^75 
To  thee  their  faces  do  the  Latins  turn. 
The  king  himself,  Latinus,  is  in  doubt 
Whom  he  shall  call  his  son-in-law,  or  what 
Alliance  choose.    Nay  more,  the  queen  —  to  thee 
The  loyalest  of  friends  —  by  her  own  hand 
Hath  died,  and  fled  in  terror  from  the  light. 
Messapus  and  the  brave  Atinas  bear. 
Alone  before  the  gates,  the  battle-brunt. 
Around  them  surge,  on  this  side  and  on  that. 
The  dense  battalions  of  the  foe,  and  glooms  ^^s 
A  bristling  crop  of  naked  steel,  while  thou 
Thy  chariot  wheel'st  o'er  this  abandoned  field." 

Dumb-stricken,  stunned  at  such  a  mass  of  woes, 
In  silent  wonderment  did  Turnus  stand. 
A  sense  of  shame  seethes  deep  within  his  heart, 


BOOK  XII. 


419 


Of  frenzy  mixed  with  sorrow,  love  inflamed 
To  fury,  courage  certain  of  itself  ! 

Soon  as  the  shadows  parted,  and  the  light 
Broke  in  upon  his  mind  again,  alarmed 
He  turned  his  glaring  eyeballs  towards  the  town,  ^95 
And  from  his  car  upon  its  mighty  walls 
Looked  back.  Lo  !  there  a  whirl  of  flame,  that  rolled 
From  height  to  height  and  waved  against  the  sky, 
Had  seized  a  tower  which  he  of  good  stout  beams 
Had  built  'neath  his  own  eye,  and  set  on  wheels,  ^ 
And  with  high-arching  bridges  fitted.    "  Now, 
Now,  sister,  fate  must  have  its  way !  Forbear 
To  hold  me  back  !    Where'er  the  gods,  where 'ei 
Stern  fortune  calls,  there  let  me  go.  Resolved 
Am  I  to  meet  ^neas  in  the  lists  —  90s 
Resolved  to  bear  death's  keenest  pang :  nor  shalt 
Thou,  sister,  see  me  longer  in  disgrace  ! 
Let  me,  I  pray  thee,  go  while  yet  I  may." 
Thus  spake,  and  from  his  chariot  quick  leapt  out 
Upon  the  ground.  Through  foe,  through  steel  he  flies, 
His  sorrowing  sister  leaves  behind,  and  swift 
Breaks  through  the  centre  of  the  battle-line. 
So,  toppled  by  the  gale,  comes  dashing  down 
From  off  a  precipice  some  monster  rock 
The  heavy  rain  hath  washed  or  the  long  lapse  915 
Of  years  hath  loosed :    Resistless  and  abrupt. 
The  mighty  mass  leaps  with  gigantic  bounds 
Till  on  the  level  ground  it  rolls,  and  drags 
Along  its  path  trees,  shepherds,  and  their  flocks. 
So  through  the  parting  ranks  doth  Turnus  rush  92« 
The  ramparts  of  the  city  toward,  where'er 


420 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  earth  is  deepest  drenched  with  streams  of  blood, 

And  sibilant  the  air  with  javelins. 

He  lifts  his  hand,  and  in  stentorian  tones 

Shouts  instantly :    "  Hold  now,  ye  Rutuli !  92s 

Ye  Latins  stay  your  steel !    Whatever  hap, 

The  field  is  mine.    Better  for  you  that  I 

Alone  wash  out  the  shame,  and  by  the  sword 

Our  fate  determine."    All  at  this  fall  back, 

And  in  the  centre  of  the  field  make  room.  930 

Quick  as  the  name  of  Turnus  strikes  his  ear, 
JEneas  turns  his  back  on  wall  and  town. 
Brooks  no  delay,  abandons  all  his  plans. 
And,  bounding  with  delight,  makes  terrible 
The  thunder  of  his  arms.    So  Athos  towers,  93s 
So  Eryx  lifts,  or  our  own  Apennine, 
Its  snowy  head  in  triumph  to  the  sky. 
And  roars  through  its  resplendent  crest  of  oaks. 

Italians,  Rutuli  and  Trojans  then  — 
Alike  who  held  the  summit  of  the  walls,  940 
Or  battered  at  their  foot  —  concentred  all 
Their  eager  gaze  and  threw  their  weapons  down. 
Struck  dumb  with  awe,  Latinus  stood  to  see 
Two  mighty  warriors  — half  the  globe  betwixt 
The  places  of  their  birth  —  in  combat  meet  94s 
Upon  the  wager  of  their  swords.    Broad  stretched 
The  open  field.    Swift  striding  forward,  they, 
Still  far  apart,  let  fly  their  spears,  and  roused 
With  clash  of  brazen  shield  the  Battle-God. 
The  earth  did  groan,  as,  blow  fast  following  blow,  9S<» 
They  with  their  swords  laid  on,  —  in  each  combined 
The  inspiration  of  the  scene,  the  fire 


BOOK  XII. 


421 


Of  native  valor.    So  on  Sila's  vast, 

Or  Mount  Taburnus'  slopes,  two  angry  bulls 

To  battle  rush,  encountering  front  to  front :  955 

The  frightened  herdsmen  stand  aside  :  the  whole 

Herd  clusters  motionless  with  fear ;  nor  dare 

A  heifer  low  —  uncertain  which  will  rule 

The  field  or  be  the  leader  of  the  drove  : 

With  sheer  brute  force  each  other's  flesh  they  gore  ; 

With  interlocking  horns  they  strain ;  blood  runs 

In  rivers  down  their  shoulders  and  their  necks ; 

And  the  whole  woodland  with  their  bellowing  roars. 

So  'tis,  when  shield  to  shield  in  combat  meet 

Trojan  ^neas  and  the  Daunian  chief :  —  965 

So  loud  the  crash,  it  fills  the  very  air. 

Jove  holds  himself  the  scales  in  equal  poise. 
And  weighs  the  shifting  fortunes  of  the  two, 
So  he  determine  unto  which  of  them 
Defeat  is  doomed,  —  to  which  side  death  inclines.  970 
'Tis  just  at  this  that  Turnus  springs  aside. 
Thinking  it  safe,  rises  with  all  his  weight 
Upon  his  high  uplifted  sword,  and  strikes. 
The  Trojans  and  the  anxious  Latins  yell. 
Their  eyeballs  riveted  alike.    But  snaps  975 
The  treacherous  blade,  the  blow  half-struck,  and  leaves 
The  fiery  chief  no  refuge  save  in  flight. 
Quick  as  he  sees  the  unfamiliar  hilt, 
And  his  right  hand  disarmed,  swift  as  the  wind 
He  flies.    The  story  goes  that,  when  the  fight  980 
Began  and  he  in  haste  did  mount  his  car. 
He  left  his  father's  sword  behind,  and  caught 
In  his  confusion  up  his  charioteer 


422 


THE  ^NEID. 


Metiscus'  blade.    Long  as  the  Trojans  turned 

Their  flying  backs,  it  was  enough ;  but  when  985 

He  came  to  match  the  arms  god  Vulcan  wrought, 

Like  brittle  ice  was  shattered  at  a  blow 

The  steel  of  mortal  make,  and  glittering  lay 

The  fragments  on  the  yellow  sand.    So  'tis 

That  over  every  quarter  of  the  field  990 

All  purposeless  he  flies.    Now  here,  now  there, 

He  circles  tortuously  in  and  out : 

For  everywhere  the  Trojans  shut  him  in; 

Upon  this  side  the  wide  extending  marsh, 

On  that  the  lofty  walls,  encircle  him. 

Nor  lags  ^neas  far  behind,  although, 
Retarded  by  his  arrow-wound,  his  knees- 
A  little  falter  and  are  loth  to  run. 
Hot  in  pursuit,  he  presses  foot  to  foot 
Upon  his  anxious  foe.    So,  in  the  chase, 
The  hunter  finds  a  stag  penned  up  within 
The  borders  of  a  stream,  or  caught  amid 
The  crimson-feathered  toils,  and  on  it  sets 
His  yelling  hounds.    In  terror  at  the  snare 
And  river-bank  too  steep,  a  thousand  times  *«>5 
It  back  and  forward  flies.    With  open  mouth. 
The  tireless  Umbrian  dog  hangs  on  its  flank, 
Now,  now  seems  seizing  it  and  snaps  his  jaws 
As  if  his  teeth  were  in,  yet  sees  the  prey 
Still  slipping  from  his  empty  bite  :  then  loud 
The  shout  that  rises ;  bank  and  stream  respond. 
And  back  the  whole  heaven  thunders  with  the  roar. 
As  Turnus  flies,  to  all  the  Rutuli 
He  shouts,  calls  each  by  name,  and  begs  his  own 


BOOK  XIL 


423 


True  sword,    ^neas,  on  the  other  hand,  ^°^5 
If  any  dare  give  aid,  threats  instant  death 
And  slaughter,  sets  them  quivering  all  with  fear 
Lest  he  the  city  sack,  and,  spite  his  wound, 
Still  presses  on.    Five  times  they  circle  round, — 
Five  times  retrace  their  steps  now  here,  now  there. 
No  boy's  play  this ;  no  graceful  prize  at  stake ! 
With  Turnus  'tis  his  heart's  blood  and  his  life. 

It  happed  an  olive  tree,  with  its  tart  leaves, 
Grew  wild  near  by,  to  Faunus  consecrate. 
'Twas  wood  the  mariners  did  once  esteem, 
For,  saved  from  shipwreck,  there  they  nailed  their  gifts 
To  the  Laurentian  deity,  and  hung 
The  garments  they  had  vowed  to  hang.  Unknown 
To  them  its  sacred  use,  the  Trojan  troops 
Had  lopped  its  trunk  to  make  an  open  field 
On  which  to  charge.    In  this  was  sticking  now 
Eneas'  spear.    Hither  its  impetus 
Had  carried  it  and  firmly  driven  it  home 
Into  the  hardy  stump.    The  Trojan  chief 
Strained  at  it  hard  and  stoutly  sought  to  pluck  ^o3s 
The  iron  out,  that  so  he  might  with  that 
O'ertake  whom  in  the  race  he  could  not  reach. 
Insane  with  terror,  Turnus  shouted  then  : 
"  I  pray  thee,  Faunus,  pity  me  !    Hold  fast 
The  spear  in  thy  good  soil,  for  always  I  ^040 
In  reverence  held  thy  honors  which  these  men 
Of  Troy  now  desecrate  by  war."    So  spake. 
Nor  begged  in  vain  the  succor  of  the  god. 
Not  all  Eneas'  might,  though  straining  long, 
And  long  delayed  anent  the  hardy  stump,  '='45 


424 


THE  iENEID. 


Can  make  the  stubborn  wood  unhinge  its  grip ; 

And  while  he  struggles  there  intent  and  fierce, 

The  Daunian  nymph  assuming  yet  again 

The  charioteer  Metiscus'  shape,  runs  forth 

And  to  her  brother's  hand  restores  his  sword.  ^°so 

In  dudgeon  that  her  way  a  saucy  nymph 

Should  have,  Venus  takes  part  and  from  the  stump 

Plucks  out  the  spear.    Exultant  both, —  their  arms, 

Their  hearts  restored, —  one  trusting  in  his  blade. 

The  other  fierce  and  towering  with  his  spear,  '^ss 

They  face  each  other  panting  for  the  fight.. 

Meantime  all-powerful  Olympus'  king 
To  Juno,  looking  from  a  crimson  cloud 
Upon  the  fight,  speaks  thus :    "  When  shall  there  be 
An  end,  my  wife,  of  this  ?    What  more  is  left  ? 
Thou  know'st,  ay,  thou  confessest  that  thou  know'st, 
^neas  yet  is  destined  to  be  placed 
A  deity  in  heaven  and  lifted  up 
Among  the  stars.    What  mischief  art  thou  at, 
Or  in  what  hope  dost  hug  those  icy  clouds } 
Was  it  quite  fitting  an  immortal  god 
Be  thus  disfigured  by  a  mortal  wound ; 
Or  that  the  sword,  from  Turnus  snatched, — for  what 
Could  have  Juturna  done  without  thy  help  ?  — 
Should  be  returned  to  him,  and,  vanquished  once,  '°7o 
His  strength  restored  ?    Now  once  for  all  forbear! 
Yield  to  my  will ;  let  not  this  sorrow  gnaw 
Thy  silent  heart,  nor  these  unhappy  cares 
Meet  me  so  oft  from  thy  sweet  mouth !    The  last 
Has  come.  Power  hast  thou  had  o'er  land  and  sea  '°7S 
The  Trojans  to  pursue, — unhallowed  war 


BOOK  XII. 


To  kindle, —  to  dishonor  home, —  and  drown 
Love's  torch  with  tears.    Forbid  I  thee  dare  more  !  " 
Thus  Jove  spake  unto  her ;  and  thus  repHed 
The  goddess  Juno  with  a  downcast  face  : 
"  But  that  I  knew,  great  Jove,  thou  so  had'st  willed, 
I  ne'er  had  quitted  Turnus  to  his  fate. 
Nor  willingly  withdrawn  me  from  the  earth ; 
Nor  would'st  thou  see  me,  on  this  lonely  cloud. 
Sit  suffering  thus  the  shifts  of  fortune.    Nay,  ^°^s 
Belted  with  fire,  I  in  the  battle  front 
Had  stood,  and  drawn  the  Trojans  to  defeat. 
I  do  confess  I  bade  Juturna  help 
Her  wretched  brother,  and  encouraged  her 
To  dare  e'en  greater  risks  to  save  his  life,  ^°9o 
But  not  to  take  up  arms  or  bend  the  bow, — 
So  swear  I  by  the  inexorable  Styx, 
That  one  oath  reverenced  by  the  gods  of  heaven ! 
Yes,  now  I  yield,  and  loathe  and  leave  the  fight : 
I  only  ask  —  what  nowise  fate  forbids —  •°95 
For  Latium  and  the  honor  of  thy  race. 
That  when  the  happy  wedding-day  brings  peace 
To  them,  and  their  alliance  knits,  thou  then 
Bid  not  the  Latins,  natives  of  the  soil, 
Change  their  old  name  so  Trojans  they  become,  "«» 
Or  Trojans  e'er  be  called,  or  change  their  tongue, 
Or  shift  their  garb.    Let  it  be  Latium  still ! 
For  ages  hence  let  there  be  Alban  kings. 
And  let  the  Roman  issue  grow  in  strength 
Sprung  from  the  virtues  of  the  Italian  stock  !  "^s 
As  Troy  has  fall'n,  so  fall  with  it  its  name !  " 
Maker  of  earth  and  men,  Jove  smiled  on  her : 


426 


THE  .^:neid. 


"  Sister  of  Jove,  and  Saturn's  other  child 

Art  thou  —  yet  in  thy  bosom  harborest 

Such  storms  of  passion !  Nay,  give  o'er,  and  crush  "^o 

The  frenzy  that  began  in  naught.    I  grant 

All  thou  would'st  have.    I  yield  —  alike  convinced 

And  of  my  choice.    The  Italians  shall  retain 

Their  native  language  and  their  ways,  —  their  name 

Be  then  as  now.    The  Trojans  shall  no  more  "'5 

Than  intermarn*  and  find  settlement. 

Ritual  and  form  of  worship  I  will  fix, 

And  make  them  Latins  all,  with  but  one  tongue. 

Thence  shall  a  race  arise, —  the  Italian  blood 

Commingling  in  its  veins, —  which  thou  shalt  see  "^o 

In  righteousness  surpassing  gods  and  men, 

While  none  so  reverently  shall  worship  thee  !  " 

At  this  reply  nods  Juno  her  assent : 

Content  at  heart,  she  gives  her  purpose  o'er. 

Forsakes  the  cloud  and  passes  from  the  sky.  "^5 

This  done,  the  Father  meditates  again, 
And  plans  to  sever  from  her  brother's  sword 
Juturna's  aid.    'Tis  said  there  are  two  pests 
Called  Dirae,  and  that  Midnight  gave  them  birth  — 
Them  and  hell-hag  Megaera  all  at  once —  "3o 
Crowning  them  all  alike  with  squirming  snakes, 
And  fitting  them  with  buoyant  wings.    They  wait 
Beside  the  throne  of  Jove  and  at  the  door 
Of  the  dread  god  :    They  whet  to  agony 
The  terrors  of  the  sick,  oft  as  the  King  »'35 
Of  gods  inflicts  disease  and  dreadful  death. 
Or  guilty  cities  harasses  with  war. 
'Twas  one  of  these  that  from  the  airy  heights 


BOOK  XII. 


427 


Jove  hastily  sent  down,  and  bade  her  meet 
And  give  Juturna  warning.    Forth  she  flits,  "^o 
And  glides  to  earth  upon  the  wind's  swift  wings, 
As,  from  the  bow-string  through  the  clouds  impelled, 
The  cruel,  treacherous,  poisoned  arrow  flies  — 
Some  Parthian's  or  some  Cydon's  fatal  shaft  — 
Whizzing  and  yet  so  rapid  that  unseen 
It  cuts  the  shadows.    So  this  imp  of  night 
Speeds  on  her  way,  and  hastens  to  the  earth. 

Soon  as  she  sees  the  Trojan  battle  line 
And  Turnus'  troops,  she  shrinks  her  suddenly 
Into  the  smaller  figure  of  a  bird,  "So 
Such  as  by  night  doth  sit  on  sepulchres 
Or  lonely  roofs,  and  in  the  darkness  shriek 
Its  late  and  boding  notes.    In  this  disguise 
Before  the  eyes  of  Turnus  to  and  fro 
The  Fury  screams  and  flits,  and  flaps  her  wings  "ss 
Against  his  shield.    His  limbs  grow  numb  and  faint, 
His  hair  on  end  with  horror,  and  his  voice 
Sticks  in  his  throat.    But  when  Juturna  hears 
The  flapping  of  a  fury's  wings  afar, 
She  tears  her  flowing  tresses  in  despair ; 
In  all  a  sister's  grief  rends  with  her  nails 
Her  cheeks,  and  beats  her  bosom  with  her  fists  : 
"  How  can  thy  sister,  Turnus,  help  thee  more  ? 
What  now  is  left  me  in  my  wretchedness 
What  art  have  I  to  further  eke  thy  life,  "^s 
Or  how  can  I  this  monster  match }    Now,  now 
At  last  I  leave  the  battle-field  !    Add  not 
Thy  terrors  to  my  woe,  ill-omened  bird  ! 
I  recognize  the  flapping  of  thy  wings  — 


428 


THE  i^:NEID. 


The  augury  of  death  ;  nor  are  from  me  "7o 

The  stern  behests  of  mighty  Jove  disguised. 

Does  he,  who  robbed  me  of  my  honor  make 

This  recompense  ?    Why  gave  he  unto  me 

Eternal  life  ?    Why  take  away  the  boon 

Of  certain  death  ?    I  would  that  once  for  all  "7S 

I  might  these  sorrows  at  this  moment  end, 

And  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  walk 

At  my  poor  brother's  side  !    Immortal  I ! 

Without  thee,  brother,  what  delight  for  me 

In  any  blessing  of  my  own  ?    Would  earth  "8° 

Might  yawn  so  wide,  though  I  a  goddess  am, 

'Twould  drag  me  down  into  the  deepest  shades ! " 

This  said,  her  green  veil  round  her  head  she  wrapped 

With  many  a  groan,  and  sank  into  the  sea. 

Forcing  the  fight,  ^neas  brandishes  "^s 
His  mighty  tree-trunk  spear,  and  savagely 
He  shouts :  "  Art  shirking  still  ?   Doth  Turnus  flinch  ? 
No  trial  this  of  speed  !  —  but  face  to  face 
We  fight  with  deadly  steel.    Be  on  thy  guard 
At  every  point,  and  summon  to  thine  aid  "9o 
Whate'er  thou  canst  of  courage  or  of  skill, — 
Whether  thou  hop'st  amidst  the  stars  of  heaven 
To  wing  thy  flight,  or  in  the  grave  to  sink." 

Turnus  but  bowed  his  head  as  back  he  cried : 
"  Thou  beast,  thy  taunts  alarm  me  not.   The  gods  "95 
I  fear  and  Jove,  who  hath  become  my  foe." 
He  spake  no  more,  but  as  he  looked  about 
He  saw  a  huge  and  moss-grown  rock,  that  happed 
To  lie  upon  the  plain,  a  monument 
Set  there  to  mark  the  boundaries  of  the  field. 


BOOK  XII. 


429 


Scarce  twelve  picked  men,  such  as  the  earth  bears  now, 

Beneath  its  weight  could  stagger.    In  his  hand 

The  hero  caught  it  nervously ;  he  ran 

To  give  it  impulse ;  rising  on  his  toes, 

He  flung  it  at  his  foe,  scarce  conscious  he  ^^05 

Whether  he  ran  or  walked,  or  that  he  raised 

Or  hurled  that  monstrous  stone.  His  knees  grew  weak ; 

His  blood  so  cold,  it  thickened  in  his  veins. 

The  warrior's  missile,  flying  through  the  air. 

Nor  cleared  the  space  nor  struck  a  blow.   So  'tis 

Ofttimes  in  sleep,  when  night's  soft  slumbers  fold 

The  eyes,  and  we  in  vain  strive  eagerly 

To  reach  some  goal,  yet  ever  fail  and  faint 

E'en  as  we  struggle  most;  nor  tongue  will  speak, 

Nor  most  familiar  muscles  move,  nor  word  ^215 

Nor  utterance  follow.    So,  whatever  way 

He  bravely  dares,  the  infernal  goddess  blocks 

Success.    A  thousand  thoughts  are  in  his  heart. 

His  wistful  eyes  are  on  his  countrymen 

And  toward  the  town.    In  fear  he  hesitates  ;  "^o 

He  trembles  at  his  adversary's  spear; 

Nor  sees  he  either  how  to  fly,  or  how 

To  strike  his  enemy;  nowhere  in  sight 

His  car,  his  sister,  or  his  charioteer. 

But  while  he  vacillates,  ^neas  lifts  "25 
His  deadly  shaft :  he  hurls  it  from  afar 
With  steady  aim  and  all  his  might.    Ne'er  stone 
Shot  from  the  catapult  so  roared  its  way, 
Or  thunder  broke  so  loud.    Speeds  on  the  spear. 
Black  as  the  hurricane,  and  grinning  death  "3o 
Astride  its  point.    The  fastenings  of  the  mail, 


430 


THE  ^NEID. 


The  buckler's  edge,  spite  seven  thick  plates  of  brass, 
It  rips  apart,  and  pierces  with  a  hiss 
Straight  through  the  thigh.  Struck  down  upon  the  earth 
Great  Turnus  falls  upon  his  bended  knee.  ^^35 

The  Rutuli  spring  forward  with  a  groan  ; 
The  circling  hills  repeat  the  cry,  and  far 
Away  the  woods  re-echo  it.    His  eyes. 
His  pleading  hands  uplifting,  Turnus  speaks, 
A  suppliant  he  and  low  :  "  I  merit  naught,  "4© 
Nor  mercy  ask.    Use,  as  thou  wilt,  thy  lot ! 
Yet  if  in  aught  a  wretched  father's  grief — 
Thou  such  a  father  in  Anchises  had'st  — 
Can  touch  thy  heart,  have  pity  then.  I  beg, 
On  Daunus  now  in  his  old  age ;  and  though 
Thou  robb'st  my  body  of  the  spark  of  life. 
Restore  it  to  my  kin  !    The  victory  thine. 
The  Italians  see  me  now  lift  up  my  hands 
A  vanquished  man.    Lavinia  is  thy  wife. 
Thou  canst  not  glut  thy  vengeance  on  me  more  !  "  "5° 

yEneas  paused.    Hot  with  the  fight,  yet  back 
He  held  his  hand,  and  gazed  unsteadily. 
Each  word  now  more  and  more  began  to  bend 
His  yielding  purpose,  when  young  Pallas'  belt 
Alas  !  high  on  the  shoulder  of  his  foe,  "ss 
Its  well-remembered  bosses  glistening  there. 
He  saw.    Turnus  had  slain  the  boy,  who  then 
Vanquished  and  bleeding  lay,  and  now  he  wore 
Across  his  breast  the  trophy  then  he  won. 
Nor  sooner  drank  Eneas'  eyes  that  sight  — 
The  spoils  that  called  to  mind  so  keen  a  grief — 
Than,  terrible  his  wrath,  on  fire,  with  rage. 


BOOK  XII. 


431 


He  cried :  "  Clad  in  the  trophies  thou  did'st  strip 

From  off  the  body  of  my  friend,  shalt  thou 

Escape  me  ?    Pallas  'tis,  that  with  this  stab  —  "^s 

'Tis  Pallas  sacrifices  thee,  and  wreaks 

His  vengeance  thus  in  thy  accursed  blood  !  " 

While  yet  he  spake,  he  passionately  plunged 

His  dagger  through  his  foeman's  heart.    Death's  chill 

Unnerved  the  limbs,  but  the  undying  soul  "7° 

Sighed  its  contempt,  and  flitted  to  the  shades. 


THE  END. 


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